


Walking Right Next to You

by DoesItWeighMoreThanADuck



Category: Heroes (TV 2006)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Multi, Parallel Universes, idk what else to tag this as lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 57,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24407275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoesItWeighMoreThanADuck/pseuds/DoesItWeighMoreThanADuck
Summary: After Claire gives him the idea to experiment with his powers, Hiro ends up getting himself and Ando trapped in a bizarre and frightening alternate universe. Will they be able to get home, or will they become victims of the alternate world's mechanisms?
Relationships: Ando Masahashi/Hiro Nakamura, Claire Bennet/Elle Bishop (Heroes TV 2006), Daphne Millbrook/Matt Parkman
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally published this on Fanfiction.net in the fall of 2018. As with the other stories I've imported from ff.n onto here, I've made a few edits to correct typos and make certain details make more sense... but with this one, I've also made a couple more notable edits, particularly where the resolution is concerned. (Hint: this time, there's a bit more of a ~romantic~ element to it! ;3) Also, I did away with the whole "prefacing each chapter with a relevant Griffin McElroy quote" thing, because I feel like that was kinda detracting from the intended tone. Anyway, hope y'all enjoy!

Experimenting with powers, from what Hiro understood, was rarely a good thing. When the Company had done it, it was bad, but that was mainly because they didn't give people a choice. On the other hand, Claire experimented with her power all the time. Still, even then her dad didn't approve (ironic considering his background with the Company). However, she was pretty confident in it being fine to test her limits.

“Honestly, it's like everybody in my life wants to protect me--like they still see me as a little girl,” she was complaining as she sat on her bed amidst a pile of stuffed animals. One of said toys was a teddy bear wearing a bright red ribbon around its neck, which Claire was currently in the process of untying. “Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it and all, but I just wish Mom and Dad and Peter could see that I'm practically an adult now. I can take care of myself.”

“Mm-hmm?” Hiro looked up from his position on the floor, where he was examining one of Claire’s plushies. “Maybe you should try talking to them.”

“Right, like I haven't tried that,” she sighed. “Peter _says_ he understands, but he also swooped in to catch me when I tried jumping off a building yesterday, so I don't really think he gets it.”

“People who care about you don't like to see you get hurt, even if it's temporary,” he said. “I know I wouldn't want to see Ando hurt himself like you do.”

“Yeah, well, Ando doesn't have healing powers.” Having untied the ribbon from her teddy bear’s neck, she lifted up her hair and tied it around her own neck. “Honestly, I don't think they'd mind as much if they didn't see me as a kid.”

As somebody who was often seen as childish despite being a grown man, Hiro understood Claire's plight. “I know you wish people would take you seriously, but being treated like a kid has its upsides,” he said. “Adults can be pretty boring.”

He shot her a playful grin, which she returned even as she prepared to tighten the ribbon around her neck. “Thanks, Hiro,” she said. “You're a great friend.”

Hiro was glad to be of help. He winced despite himself as she choked herself with the ribbon, the fibres of her throat scrambling to repair themselves as she drew the ribbon even tighter. She began to go blue in the face, and eventually slumped over, going limp. A couple seconds later, she sat back up, rubbing her neck.

“Okay, cool,” she muttered. “Gotta say, not a big fan of not being able to breathe. It's about the closest to pain I can get.”

Hiro nodded, making a mental note to prevent her from being suffocated if the threat should arise (outside of the context of her tests on herself, that was to say). One of the main reasons he encouraged Claire’s experiments--and indeed, her whole motivation for doing them--was to know what to look out for in combat. Nobody else knew that Claire was still testing the limits of her power--not even Claire's college roommate and girlfriend, Gretchen.

Currently, Claire was home for spring break. Business had been a bit slow for Dial-a-Hero lately (not that there was ever a time when it was particularly _not_ slow) so Hiro and Ando had the time to help out a friend. In order to keep Noah and Sandra from catching on to their daughter's activities, Ando was keeping them busy out in the living room.

“You know, you should try doing this kind of thing with your power,” Claire suggested as she tied the ribbon back around the bear. She fumbled a bit retying the bow; it didn't look quite as nice as it had originally. “Pushing it to its limits. Seeing what those limits are, if you even have any.”

It wasn't an idea Hiro had considered in a long time, but he perked up a bit as soon as she said it. “That could be fun!”

“I know, right?” she said. “Instead of coming up with new ways to maul yourself, you could go to alien planets or something!”

Hiro laughed somewhat nervously at how flippantly she referenced what was essentially self-harm. Were it not for the potential usefulness of knowing her limits, he’d be just as worried as her family was about her experiments. Still, what she said was true: travelling through time and space was objectively way more fun than super healing. He wondered if, when combined with Ando’s supercharging ability, he really might be able to teleport to another planet. Or what if he went centuries into the future? His mind spun thinking of the possibilities, and for a moment he felt just like he had when he was first discovering his powers. Sure, such feats would certainly be quite draining on him, but maybe he could take it.

“You're right, Claire,” Hiro said with a grin. “I'll have to start doing that.”

* * *

“Hiro, are you sure about this?”

Hiro nodded vigorously. “My power has improved a lot since it first developed,” he said excitedly, bouncing on his heels as he spoke. “Who knows what I could do now if I set my mind to it?”

Ando could tell his friend’s mind was already set, which was regrettable, since Ando was far from confident in the idea. “But what if you take us way out into space and then can’t get us back?”

“That won’t happen,” Hiro said confidently. Adjusting his glasses, he puffed out his chest self-importantly. “I know what I'm doing.”

“I know you know what you’re doing,” Ando said earnestly. “I just can't help worrying about you.”

Hiro wrinkled his nose. “You worry about me too much,” he said.

“I know, I know.”

“No, really,” Hiro insisted. Ando detected the beginnings of a pout on his lips and figured he’d best change the subject lest Hiro get upset with him. “I can take care of myself.”

“Hey, do you want to go out for dinner tonight?” Ando suggested to get Hiro’s mind off the topic at hand. “We could make it a double date.”

Hiro’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve got a date?”

“Well, you don't need to look so surprised!” Blushing, Ando gave Hiro a playful shove. “...But, yeah, I got back together with Kimiko again.”

“Hmm.” Hiro frowned, drumming his fingers on the desk. Next to his hand sat the phone, still not ringing. “I know I broke the laws of time and space to get you two together, but I'm starting to think you’re not so good for each other after all.”

“What?” Ando said. “Like I said, we're back together now.”

“After breaking up for the twelfth time!” Hiro sighed and sat back in his office chair, letting it swivel idly from side to side, and looked at Ando through narrowed eyes over the rims of his glasses. Ando felt judged by his gaze, which he figured was probably Hiro’s intention. “Anyway, we can’t have a double date, because I don’t have a date.”

That was a pretty fair point. Hiro wasn’t the kind of guy who went on many dates. If Ando had anything to do with it, Hiro would have been adored by the ladies--he certainly deserved it. However, not everybody could see all the things in Hiro that Ando could. People would look at his short stature, his glasses, his goofy grin, and they’d pass him by. They’d see him as a childish nerd and never get to know the courageous, noble man who Hiro was--the hero inside the superhero enthusiast. Then again, maybe Hiro’s lack of dates wasn't entirely other people's fault. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Hiro was still hung up on Charlie. Ando was sure that Hiro could find someone if he tried, but Hiro’s heart still belonged to his lost love.

“You know what, forget going out,” Ando sighed. “Let's try your idea--”

“Claire's idea,” Hiro corrected him.

“...Right. But, if anything goes wrong,” he said, “I want you to promise me you won't do anything dumb.”

Hiro's face lit up, and he jumped up from his chair to give Ando a hug. “I'll be fine,” he promised. Then, in an excited tone under his breath, “This is going to be so fun!”

* * *

The rest of the work day couldn't have gone by fast enough. When it was finally evening, Hiro didn't even bother heading home. Instead, he took Ando out to a park where they could run their tests in peace without disrupting anyone. There, Hiro prepared to see just how far through space and time he could travel.

“Okay, let's start without you supercharging me at all,” he said, resting one hand on Ando’s shoulder so his friend would be taken along with him to wherever he went. “I'm going to start by seeing how far away from earth I can get us.”

He screwed up his face and focused as hard as he could on an image very familiar to him from all the science fiction he watched: the vastness of outer space. Sure enough, he felt the environment around him shift to something cold and weightless. He also instantly felt very tired by the transition, but it was more than worth it when he opened his eyes and looked around. There was nothing around him but emptiness. Hiro tried to draw in a breath only to remember that he couldn't. He was in space. _He was in space!_

Throwing back his arms, he opened his mouth in a triumphant cry that was lost in the vacuum, unheard. Looking down, he could see Earth not far below--well, “far” being a relative term--and was a bit disappointed he hadn't been able to get farther out, but still! _HE WAS IN SPACE!_ The fact was mind-boggling in the best way, and Hiro wondered how he could never have thought to try this before.

Then his inability to breathe caught up to him and his lungs started aching, and he remembered why Ando had been so concerned about this experiment. Placing his hand back on his friend's shoulder, he took them back to the park where they had been a few seconds before.

Immediately upon reappearing in the park, Ando dropped to his knees, breathing hard. Hiro was content to stay on his feet, but his legs felt a little wobbly, so he leaned up against a tree to steady himself. His mind was buzzing with excitement over his accomplishment.

“I did it!” he exclaimed once he'd caught his breath.

“You did it,” Ando agreed, his eyes wide with awe. “I have to admit, that was awesome.”

Hiro nodded, bouncing up and down on his heels. “I know!” Unable to find the words to express himself, he flapped his hands in the air, grinning from ear to ear. “We should do it again!”

* * *

Over the course of the next few weeks, Hiro ran more and more experiments with his power. Sometimes he got Ando to help, and other times he did it alone. Ando had to admit that maybe he shouldn't have been so worried about it; so far everything was going fine. It _was_ pretty exciting, and Hiro was always able to get them back without issue. So far, they still hadn't been able to get out to another planet, but each time Hiro took them out into space they seemed to get just a little further from earth. Hiro hadn't started running the same tests with time travel yet, but he seemed eager to.

Ando was still worried, though. Maybe it was just his nature to be overly concerned, but every time Hiro did one of his experiments, there was always a moment right after they reappeared when he just looked so tired. He was clearly overexerting himself, and he didn't seem willing to stop anytime soon. Ando had known Hiro long enough to know that his friend didn't like to admit to needing help, but these tests were obviously taking quite a toll on him. He talked less, and he was less attentive. Recently, he had fallen asleep at work a couple times. Now, as they took the subway home after a long day at the office, Hiro spoke of his plans to start experimenting with how far through time he could travel.

“You wouldn't think so, but I actually find time travel easier than moving through space,” he was saying. “So I think I can get us to prehistoric times if I try really hard.”

Ando rolled his eyes. “I'd say that's a bit far-fetched.”

“I've travelled to the Feudal Era before, remember?” Hiro reminded him. “With you supercharging me, I bet I can get us that far back. Maybe farther.”

“I bet you can't.”

Hiro shrugged. “I'll just have to prove you wrong, then,” he said. Then, after a pause, “Or maybe I should do the future first. I haven't been too far in the future yet.”

“Right, because we always have such a good time when we go to the future,” Ando said. He suppressed a shudder as he recalled the time when they had visited one particular bad future in which he had been dead and Hiro had been a ruthless killer.

“This would be way farther into the future than that,” Hiro told him. “It'd be long after we're dead--”

“Oh, that makes it so much better.”

“It does, because it would be a time period that we'd otherwise never get to see!” Hiro wrung his hands as he spoke. “Don't you want to see what things will be like centuries from now?”

Ando did think it would be cool, but he was also worried about what they would find. If the future turned out to be darker, a far cry from the utopian future from _Star Trek,_ Hiro might be disappointed. It was probably foolish for Ando to want to protect Hiro, who had already been exposed to the cruelty of the world firsthand, but he just couldn't help it. When his friend acted so much like a kid, it was hard not to want to keep him sheltered.


	2. Chapter 2

It was raining on the day that Hiro decided to run his first time-related test, so rather than the park, they just went to Hiro’s apartment. Perhaps it wasn’t quite as thematically appropriate a location, but Hiro thought of it this way: if he opened his eyes to find his surroundings totally different, he would know that he had succeeded.

“Today we're going to try to get as far into the future as we can,” Hiro said, pushing up his glasses as they stood facing each other in his apartment. “I want you to supercharge my power this time so I can get as far ahead in time as possible.”

Ando nodded, looking reluctant. He placed his hand in Hiro’s, and red sparks began to dance around them. Taking in a deep breath, Hiro closed his eyes and focused on the future. However, as he felt himself begin to fade from his current location and into another, he began to worry about what he might find. He always liked to think that the future would turn out at least kind of similar to the one in  _ Star Trek.  _ If it didn't, what would that say about humanity? Of course, he was no stranger to dystopian futures, but if it was too many years ahead for him and his friends to prevent… if things were just fated to turn out horribly, over and over again… the thought of that scared him. Suddenly Hiro realized that he didn't want to find out what the future held. He wanted to stay right where and when he was.

Still concentrating on using his power, which was strengthened by Ando’s supercharging ability, Hiro changed his destination at the last second to… well, he didn't really have one in mind anymore. He didn't want to stay in the same place, but he didn't want to go anywhere else in particular either.

In that instant, Hiro felt something happen. He wasn't sure what it was, but it didn't feel entirely pleasant. It was like a shift of some sort--like the whole universe had just changed around him. His stomach churned and his ears rang, giving him a headache.

As Hiro was reeling from this sudden sensation, cheers erupted around him, with the volume of a jet plane taking off. Eyes snapping open, Hiro covered his ears and looked around. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness--why was it so dark?

His apartment was gone. In its place was what appeared to be a large stadium. Hiro and Ando were in one of the further-back rows of seats, all of which were packed with spectators. Below was a ring closed off with a rope barrier--were they at a wrestling match? It was a random location to end up at, but that was certainly what it seemed to be. The people in the ring at the moment were a tall, muscular man who looked like he could have been part of the yakuza and who was holding an axe, and a comparatively smaller but still imposing man who was armed with a sword. Hiro was too far up to be able to see either of them very well, and the ring was illuminated with bright lights which made it even harder to make the fighters out, but somehow it looked like the swordsman was winning. There was something oddly familiar about the way he moved, but Hiro couldn't quite place it.

“Um, Hiro?” Ando’s voice was quiet, and he clutched at Hiro's hand like his life depended on it. “What's going on?”

“I don’t know,” Hiro admitted. “I don’t think this is the future, though…”

As his eyes adjusted to the dark of the stadium contrasted with the brightness of the ring, he watched as the axeman lunged at the swordsman and took a swing. The swordsman blocked the attack, but he was pushed back up against the edge of the ring. Then, as Hiro watched in confoundment, the swordsman withdrew his sword, leaving himself open to an attack. His opponent wasted no time in putting his axe to use. Hiro looked away as a sickening  _ schlick _ rang through the air; when he looked back, the swordsman’s body was no longer in one piece. The crowd jeered as the axeman held up the swordsman’s detached torso, limp hand still grasping the sword, by a handful of his short blond hair.

“Victory goes to me,” the axeman bellowed. “None can defeat… The Weaponizer!”

As he lifted his axe up for the crowd to see, Hiro realized that it wasn’t a regular weapon. It looked like it was coming out of his hand--or like part of his arm had become the axe.

As the crowd booed at the axeman, the dangling arm of the dead swordsman swung back and forth. Then, suddenly, it bent at the elbow and thrust the sword forward. The axeman was caught off guard, and he was too slow to react as the sword slid into his back, through his stomach and came out, bloodstained, through his front. At this, the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. The axeman sank to his knees, dropping the swordsman’s torso. As it hit the ground, the swordsman’s body melded back together and he stood up, facing the crowd with a smirk. The axeman lay unmoving on the ground, blood pooling from his stomach.

Now Hiro knew why he recognized the swordsman's fighting style. But this was impossible--it couldn't be--

“We have our winner, ladies and gentlemen,” an announcer exclaimed. “Let's hear it for… Kensei the Unkillable!”

The crowd went wild. A shiver ran through Hiro's spine as, for an instant, he and Kensei--no, Adam was his real name--locked eyes.  _ This can't be. _ Adam was dead, wasn't he? And even if he wasn't, why would he be fighting in a… wait, exactly what kind of event was this, anyway? Hiro had thought it was a wrestling match at first, but the last time he'd checked, wrestling matches weren't to the death.

Hiro gripped Ando’s hand. “Let's get out of here,” he said.

He teleported them out of the stadium, trying to get them back to his apartment. Instead, they ended up in a parking lot outside the stadium, where a bright neon sign was flashing. It read, in big blocky text, “TONIGHT: THE WEAPONIZER vs. KENSEI THE UNKILLABLE!” The building itself was a massive black dome with a huge parking lot, jam-packed with vehicles. Apart from that, the surrounding area looked normal. Hiro could even see the convenience store a few blocks away from what was supposed to be the apartment complex where he lived.

So, clearly they were in the same place, but they couldn't have been in the same time period. If Adam was still alive, maybe it was the past? But Hiro was pretty sure that there had never been a place like that in his neighbourhood. His mind spun, full of questions which he couldn't find the answers to. But maybe somebody else from this… future, or past, or whatever it was, would be able to fill them in.

“Let's go to New York,” Hiro suggested. “Or Costa Verde, or LA. We need to find our friends.”

“You think they'll know what's going on?” Ando asked.

“They should,” Hiro said. “At least that way we can figure out what time we're in.”

They decided to try Peter’s apartment first. However, immediately upon appearing in what should have been the paramedic’s living room, Hiro could tell that something was off. The apartment was lavishly decorated, a far cry from Peter’s sparse living space, with pictures of people Hiro had never seen before hung up all over. There was a rocking chair in the corner of the room facing an old-fashioned television set. In the rocking chair was an old woman watching Jeopardy. She didn't seem to notice Hiro and Ando, which Hiro was thankful for. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to some poor old woman why he had suddenly materialized in what appeared to be her apartment.

Hiro got out of there in a hurry, taking them outside. Out there, everything looked normal; all the buildings were in place, and the cars driving by were current models. So if they were in the present, what was going on?

“This is really weird,” Ando muttered.

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Hiro said. Looking around for any other little differences in the city, he pursed his lips in concentration. “Something strange is definitely going on here.”

They spent the next hour or so wandering around New York City, trying to get information. Apparently everybody knew who Peter was, but nobody knew  _ where _ he was, which wasn't much help. After quite a bit of walking around, Hiro complained that he was getting hungry, so they stopped to eat at the least expensive place they could find: a run-down pizza place. After eating, they were about to leave when the doorbell chimed and a familiar face strolled in--actually, two familiar faces, one of which Hiro was more than a little surprised to see.

“So then I zapped the dude, of course,” the older woman was saying, summoning a little blue spark at her fingertips to demonstrate. “Fight won, right? Well, turns out he had the power to absorb people's attacks and send ‘em back their way, which he then did to me.”

“Oh, no, that's awful,” the second woman said. Well, calling her a woman was a bit inaccurate. She was really more of a girl. An adorable blonde girl with bright eyes, to be specific. “How did you manage to win?”

Elle smirked and flipped her hair, which was tied into a messy braid. It bore a bright blue highlight for colour which matched her tank top and tight-fitting jean shorts. “I punched him in the gut and then tripped him,” she said. “Had to spare his life, though, since it was for a kid’s birthday party and all.”

“Yeah, can't exactly go killing people in front of children,” her companion agreed with a giggle. Then her gaze wandered over to where Hiro and Ando sat, staring at her in bewilderment. “Oh, hey, Hiro! Long time, no see!”

Hiro gave her an awkward smile and wave. “Hello, Claire.”

“Ugh, those guys?” Elle made a face. “Let's not sit by them, okay?”

Claire ignored her, walking over to take a seat next to Hiro. “You know, I heard a rumour that you had died,” she said. “But I guess I should've known better than to believe that.”

“Yeah, he's alive, alright,” Ando said, patting Hiro on the shoulder affirmingly. “Nobody's going to take this guy down.”

He shot Hiro a questioning look. Hiro shrugged.  _ I don’t know what's going on any more than you do _ .

“So, what brings you two to New York?” Claire asked, fiddling with the wrapper from Hiro’s straw.

“Oh, not much,” Hiro said. He wanted to ask about Elle--why she was alive, why she was with Claire--but he decided not to be so upfront. “What about you? Why are you here?”

“Elle wanted us to go someplace not too fancy,” she said. She motioned to Elle, who was up at the counter placing an order. “We're still kinda trying to keep things on the down-low, y’know?”

Hiro very much did not know. “But why are you in this city?” he pressed.

Claire tilted her head. “Um, I live here?”

_ No you don't, _ Hiro thought.  _ What is going on?!  _ Just then, he recalled the  _ Star Trek  _ episode “Mirror Mirror”, in which the characters found themselves in a dark alternate universe. Could this be something like that?

“Anyway, as if I'd be out of town for tonight,” Claire went on. “My mom and my uncle are fighting tonight at the new stadium, and I'm totally going to be there to cheer them on.”

“Your mom?” Hiro echoed, confused. “Sandra Bennet doesn't even have a power--how could she fight in one of those battles?”

“Who the hell is Sandra Bennet?” Claire asked. Frowning, she placed her hand on Hiro’s forehead as if to check for a fever. “Seriously, is something wrong with you?”


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as they left the pizza place, Ando pulled Hiro aside into a side street so they could talk in private.

“Hiro, I have no idea what you did when you teleported to that stadium, but we need to undo it,” he said. “This is crazy! Adam Monroe and that lightning woman--Elle--are alive, and who knows what other villains might be around in this universe. What universe is this, anyway? Because I don't think it's ours!”

“I know,” Hiro said. “I think I might have accidentally sent us to the mirror universe--or something like it.”

“Well, get us back!”

“I'm not sure that I can,” Hiro confessed. “I didn't intend to take us here, it just happened… I don't know if I can figure out how to get back.”

“What?” Eyes wide, Ando grabbed his friend’s arm and stared him down. They couldn't just be stuck in some bizarre alternate world! “Hiro, you have to get us home!”

Hiro shook his head slightly. He looked just as dazed and confused as Ando was. “I'm sorry, I just…” he mumbled. “I just don’t know.”

Ando sighed and let go of Hiro. He knew it wasn't right to get mad, but… god, they weren't really going to be trapped, were they? From what little he had seen of this world, it didn't seem like a very pleasant place. Any world where dead villains were alive, and where Claire of all people was friends with one of them, couldn't have been a very safe place. And what had Elle been saying about participating in a battle against another person with powers… for some kid’s birthday? He thought back to the man with the axe from the stadium, and how his axe had appeared to be an extension of his arm. In this world, was pitting people with powers against each other some kind of common activity?

As it happened, Ando got his answer pretty fast. On the wall of a nearby building there was a poster advertising a newly opened stadium like the one in Tokyo. The poster promised “the fight of a lifetime” to be happening later that day; there was a stylized picture of two people battling. One had fire shooting from their hands; the other, ice.

Hiro pointed to the poster excitedly. “Ando! We have to check this out,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“It's an opportunity to find out more about this world,” Hiro said. “Plus, maybe we'll run into this world’s version of me, and he might be able to get us home.”

That didn't seem too likely, but Ando figured it was worth a shot. He agreed to attend the match, and a few hours later, they showed up at the stadium. It was even bigger than the one in Tokyo, and somehow even more crowded. They managed to find seats in the back row, and they sat down just as the match was about to start. An announcer stepped up and spoke into a microphone, hyping up the crowd.

“We've got a real special show for you tonight, everyone,” he said; the crowd cheered in response, and a couple people whistled. “It's a two-on-two! On team one, please welcome the Twin Dragons!”

A woman with honey-blonde hair and a tall man with a shaved head stepped into the ring, met with applause. The woman wore an orangey-red dress, and the man wore a blue tuxedo. They looked similar--they must have been related.

“And on team two…” the announcer continued, “The Icebreakers!”

Two women stepped into the ring. Actually, to someone who didn't know them, they would have looked like two of the exact same woman. One wore a black leotard with a skirt and had her hair in a ponytail, and the other donned a frilly white gown with a blue ripple pattern and wore her hair down. Compared to the other two, Niki and Tracy garnered infinitely more applause, accentuated by quite a few wolf whistles.

But wait. Claire had said that her uncle would be there. So where was Peter? And who were those fire siblings, anyway?

* * *

As soon as Claire had heard that Meredith and Flint would be fighting in the first match to ever take place in the newly-built New York Battle Stadium, she had run out and bought two tickets for front-row seats. One was for her, and the other for Nathan, but her father had been away on a business trip and unable to attend. As such, Claire had decided to invite Elle instead. Now, as her relatives’ opponents walked into the ring, Claire booed despite knowing the sound would get lost among all the applause. It was nothing personal, but she really hoped that this would be the Icebreakers’ last fight.

“Tracy is pretty hot, isn't she?” Elle whispered in a teasing tone. “I know that's an ironic term considering her power, but you've gotta admit it.”

Claire gave Elle a playful shove. “Shut up,” she hissed. “Those two look exactly the same anyway.”

Elle nodded in mock contemplation. “Yeah, I guess Niki is kind of a milf.”

“Oh, my god,” Claire said, pretending to gag. “Literally never say that word again.”

“And… begin!” the announcer yelled, calling their attention back to the ring as the match started.

Flint wasted no time in charging at Tracy, his hand flaming. Claire cheered as he landed a blow, but then Tracy turned her body to water and let his fist slip inside, extinguishing the flame. He withdrew his hand with a yelp and Tracy laughed.  _ That demon _ . Meanwhile, Niki advanced on Meredith, aiming a powerful fist toward her face. Meredith intercepted her with a burst of fire; Claire let out a whoop as Niki retreated, clutching her burnt forearm. Then she noticed that Niki had managed to get in a hit, and Meredith’s nose was now crooked and bleeding.

Tracy placed a hand on Niki's wrist to cool her burn. Niki blinked gratefully at her and then ran back up to Meredith, who managed to get out of the way this time. Flint stepped up and grabbed Niki by the wrists, immobilizing her arms. She kicked him in the shins and a loud crack rang out; he toppled over, groaning and clutching his leg.  _ No! _ Luckily, Meredith stepped in and helped Flint up, sending Niki away with another burn, much worse this time. Together, the Gordon siblings backed Niki into a corner, but just as they were about to finish her off, Tracy grabbed them both by their collars and tugged them back. Ice began to creep over their clothes, and for a moment Claire’s breath caught in her throat. Then Meredith smacked Tracy away and Flint tackled her to the ground. He breathed a plume of fire down at her, but she turned to water again and the fire sizzled off her in a cloud of steam, obscuring Flint's vision. While he couldn't see her, she flipped him over so she had him pinned down and dug her nails into his arms. He yowled in pain as frost began creeping up his arms.

“Flint!” Meredith screamed. She lunged to help her brother, but Niki grabbed her and flung her across the ring. Meredith got up and flung a fireball at Niki. It missed, but it grazed Tracy and she toppled over, hissing. Flint got to his feet, staring in horror at his arms. They had turned to ice all the way up to his shoulders. With an unfeeling laugh, Niki swung her arm at Flint and chopped the appendages clean off, shattering them. He cried out--a cry which was quickly cut off when Niki grabbed a chunk of the ice and jabbed it into his throat.

The crowd went wild. Claire screamed, her heart breaking at the sight of her uncle landing dead on the ground at Meredith's feet. Meredith let out a cry of rage and anguish and she charged at the sisters, launching a barrage of fire at them. As Tracy was caught in a blast of flame, she shrieked, and Niki ran forward to retaliate. However, at this point Meredith was unstoppable. Even as Niki braved the flames and landed a solid hit to knock Meredith to her knees, she didn't let up. Her once beautiful outfit ruined, Tracy crawled forward, the ring turning to ice beneath her hands. Meredith shot her with one more fireblast and she collapsed, a final quiet gasp escaping her lips as her body began to melt away into slush.

Claire's cheers were drowned out by the crowd's shocked gasp. Niki wailed and, while she was caught off guard, Meredith got up and prepared to finish the fight. Unfortunately, she didn't get the chance. With an enraged battle cry, Niki grabbed her and brought a fist down upon her head. A crack echoed through the stadium, and Meredith crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

“No!” Claire wailed, jumping out of her seat. It couldn't be. Her mother couldn't have lost! “Mom! Get up!”

“Claire, sit down,” Elle snapped, giving her a little shock and yanking her back down into her seat. “There's nothing you can do.”

Tears stung at the corners of Claire’s eyes as the announcer crowned Niki the victor. As the crowd cheered, Claire consoled herself with the thought that at least Meredith hadn't gone down without a fight.  _ No more two-on-two matches for you, Niki. _


	4. Chapter 4

Hiro stared, horrified, at the bodies in the ring. He had never witnessed anything so brutal. As everybody else got up and began to file out of the stadium, buzzing with excitement about the match, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the blood and ice and scorch marks, and at Tracy's motionless form. He knew it wasn't the one from his reality, but even so, it was deeply disturbing to have seen her die.

At his side, Ando squeezed his hand. “Come on, Hiro,” he muttered. “Let's leave.”

Hiro nodded numbly. He was about to teleport them back home when he remembered that that wasn't currently an option. If he tried to go back to his apartment, he'd just end up in the Tokyo stadium again. Instead, he let out a shaky sigh and stood up. They joined the trickle of people exiting the stadium, as though nothing more than another pair of spectators.

Outside, the evening air was cold and crisp. The shift in temperature from inside the stadium made Hiro's glasses fog up. As he was rubbing them on his shirt, Ando tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to a couple of people standing by a payphone. Squinting, Hiro recognized them as the alternate versions of Claire and Elle. Claire was hanging up from a phone call, crying; Elle stood beside her, murmuring words of comfort. When Hiro and Ando approached them, Elle shot them a glare and stepped aside.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” Hiro said, politely dipping his head to her. He guessed that the woman from the ring had been Claire’s biological mother--in this universe, the Bennets must have never adopted her.

Claire gave him an obviously forced smile, lifting her hoodie sleeve to her face to scrub the tearstains off her cheeks. “Yeah, well, she had a good run.”

Next to her, Elle put her arm around Claire's waist and pulled her close. “Pom-pom here isn't so good with processing emotions, as you can see,” she said. “But, hey, who is these days?”

“Rude,” Claire muttered. She gave Elle a half-heartedly teasing punch in the arm.

“Where are you staying these days?” Hiro asked her. Hopefully if he told her he had no place to go, she'd let him and Ando spend a night or two with her until they figured out how to get home.

“Oh, you know…” Claire shrugged and hitched her thumb toward the east. “Dad's place, still. Same old, same old.”

“I'm still staying at some third-rate hotel, if anybody cares,” Elle added.

“Oh, stop your whining,” said Claire. Then, turning back to Hiro, she explained, “Elle’s been staying with me, actually. And you guys can too if you want.”

Hiro perked up. “Really?”

“Yeah… the place is certainly big enough for all of us,” Claire said with a laugh. “In fact, it's a bit lonely with just me and Elle.”

Hiro nodded with a hum of contemplation. Turning to Ando, he asked, “Do you think we should stay there for a few nights?”

“Sure, why not?" Ando said with a shrug.

Claire's face lit up. In the dim evening light, Hiro noticed that this version of her had a streak of pinkish-red in her hair to compliment Elle’s streak of blue. Aesthetically speaking, they complimented each other beautifully, although the two of them hanging out together still rubbed Hiro the wrong way.

“Great,” she said. “I'll drive you guys over, then.”

* * *

Nathan hung up from the call, disheartened to hear his daughter so upset but not surprised in the slightest by the result of the match. He had told Meredith to hold out on entering until she and Flint had trained a little more. The Icebreakers were one of the most formidable duos the ring had ever seen--or at least, they had been. Shame about Tracy. He wondered who Niki's partner would be now, or if she'd even carry on with fighting at all. She had certainly made more than enough money at this point to support her family. Then again, sometimes people who had been fighting for too long didn't want to retire. Spending so much time in the ring tended to reduce one's humanity.

Well, as much as Nathan wanted to go home to provide emotional support for his distraught daughter, his work was more important. Being a senator was a busy job, after all. Besides, Claire was nearly grown now; she could take care of herself. Plus, didn't she have that electric woman to take care of her? Not the best guardian, to be sure, but it was something.

Nathan was sure that Claire would have wanted him to be all torn up about Meredith. Unfortunately, while he wasn’t exactly happy about it, he had bigger concerns in his life. Their relationship, as well as all affection for each other, had ended a long time ago. If Claire hadn't turned up on his doorstep demanding to talk to him, he would have been content to pretend it had never happened. But she had, and he'd been forced to acknowledge her, and now he supposed he was her only remaining legal guardian--or rather, he would have been, were she not already a legal adult at eighteen going on nineteen years of age. Good thing, too, because Nathan knew full well he wasn't a good parent. He had a lot of money which he used to provide Claire with everything she asked for, but that didn't make him a good parent. It just made him a rich parent.

Of course, there was one major downside to Claire being a legal adult. It meant she was liable to take part in battles like the one which had just claimed Meredith and Flint. Despite her healing powers, Claire wasn't completely invincible, and Nathan was terrified of what might happen to her if she ever entered the ring. Sure, he didn't think she was the type to enter such competitions, but who could say? That girl could be so unpredictable.

* * *

Once, to celebrate saving the world, Peter had invited all his friends over for dinner at the Petrelli estate. It had been an impressively big place, with very fancy furniture. Hiro remembered thinking that it would be amazing to live in a place like that.

Their universe's version had nothing on this version of the Petrelli residence. Walking inside was like walking into a royal palace--indeed, Hiro noticed a few servants hanging around, who Claire greeted as she led Hiro and Ando down the hall to the parlour. Hiro wondered why the Petrellis would have been this much richer in this universe. He recalled how nobody knew of Peter's whereabouts--were the two facts connected somehow?

Claire told them they could stay in Nathan's bedroom since he was out of town--so Nathan was alive in this universe too--and mentioned that Elle had been using her room. Hiro wondered why Elle hadn't been using Nathan's currently unoccupied room, but decided not to ask. It seemed like a personal matter, the kind of question people would get mad at him for asking.

“Are you guys hungry?” Claire asked as they sat down in the parlour. “Elle and I ate before we went to the stadium, but if you need anything, I can get it.”

“We're fine,” Hiro told her.

“Some drinks would be nice, though,” Ando put in. Hiro gave him a look. “What? She offered!”

While Claire went to fetch them drinks, Elle stared them down from her position in an intricately carved wooden chair. She drummed her fingers in her lap, sparks dancing around her hands. A tense silence hung in the room. Finally, Elle spoke.

“You're not from here, are you?”

“Huh?” Hiro blinked, alarmed. Had Elle figured out that they were from an alternative universe to hers? Hoping she hadn't, he decided to play dumb. “Yes, we are from Japan.”

“Not what I meant and you know it,” she said. “You keep asking Claire things that you should already know. Plus, last I heard, you died last week in the Tokyo Stadium. Killed by that immortal blond weeb with the sword.”

So in this universe, Adam had killed him… Hiro shuddered at the thought. He wondered if they had the same history as they had in his universe. If so, Adam must have gotten a lot of enjoyment out of killing him.

“He's really working his way up the ranks, that one,” Elle went on. “Unless someone figures out a way to keep him dead, he might end up facing off with Claire's  _ other _ uncle. And I really don't want my Pom-pom to lose her whole damn family.”

“Where is Peter, anyway?” Ando asked. “Nobody we talked to earlier seemed to know.”

Elle laughed humourlessly. “Why would I know any better than anyone else?” she said. “All anybody knows is that he's one of the best fighters out there, but he refuses to fight half the time. A couple years ago, he just disappeared.”

Since Elle had already guessed the truth, Hiro decided he may as well try to find out more information. “Why are things the way they are here?” he asked. “With the stadiums and the death battles?”

“Well, like everything, it's a long story,” said Elle. She looked over her shoulder to where Claire was coming out of the kitchen with a tray of drinks. “And it looks like it'll have to wait.”

“Here's the drinks,” Claire said cheerfully, setting them down on the coffee table. Hiro had no idea who was supposed to drink what; he wasn't big on alcohol to begin with. At least they looked bright and colourful. “I hope you enjoy!”

The four of them stayed up for some time making conversation. Claire asked about how Hiro had survived the fight which had killed that world's version of him, and in case she ever saw a tv recording of the actual fight, he made up a story about faking his death. Drawing from an actual experience, he told her about using a trick sword and a bag of fake blood to make it look like he died.

“But did Kensei know that he had a fake sword?” Claire asked, leaning forward eagerly to hear the details.

“...He didn't,” Hiro said after realizing that telling Claire that Adam had been in on it might have led to trouble later on down the line. “I stopped time to switch out his real sword for a trick one.”

“Awesome.” Claire grinned, and Hiro felt a twinge of guilt at how easily she bought his story. “I didn't think they let you do that in the ring.”

“He'd moved up a rank,” Ando said. Elle raised her eyebrows and gave him an approving nod, as if to say,  _ you catch on fast _ . “I mean, going up against Kensei the Unkillable? You're going to need to pull out all the stops for that.”

“Elle has been working her way up the ranks too lately,” Claire said with an affectionate glance at Elle. “Haven't you, babe?”

_ Babe _ ? All of a sudden, Hiro's perception sharpened and things fell into place: Claire and Elle going out for pizza together, sharing a bedroom, Elle putting her arm around Claire's waist.  _ “My Pom-pom.” _ For some reason, in this universe, they were dating! He tried not to let his surprise show, as his alternate self had probably already known, but he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the realization. Wasn't Elle a little old for Claire?

Elle smiled and shrugged in a coy fashion. “I guess you might say that,” she said. “My last proper match was against a pretty strong dude. No big deal, though.”

To demonstrate, she snapped her fingers and sent a shower of sparks through the air. Claire laughed and muttered, “show-off.”

“When can we plan to see you in action?” Hiro asked. He had no interest in seeing Elle murder somebody, but he thought his alternate self would have wanted to attend his friend's girlfriend's match.

“Not for another month or so,” Elle said. “I don't know who I'll be pitted against, but I hope they'll be a challenge.”

After that point, the conversation drifted away from the topic of fights and onto more pleasant subjects, such as the fact that Claire was getting good grades in college. Still, Hiro couldn't stop thinking about this bizarre alternate world, and how it could have possibly gotten that way. Whatever Elle had held off on telling them about this world, he hoped she would explain soon.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next few days, everything was basically fine. Weird, but fine. Sure, the whole dark alternate universe thing took some getting used to, but at least Ando didn't have to deal with it alone. Every time he slipped up and almost gave away their cover, Hiro jumped in to correct him, and vice versa.

And, indeed, they were learning more about this world as time went on. They picked up bits and pieces from conversations with Claire, and although Elle still wasn't very friendly with them, they learned a bit here and there from her as well. Hiro was apparently trying to work out exactly where the timeline had diverged and why; he had started up one of those ridiculous red string picture collages in Nathan's bedroom. Ando hoped that Nathan wouldn't get back from his business trip for a while, because if he came home to see Hiro's little conspiracy board, he'd think Hiro was crazy. Their universe's Nathan had already thought that about Hiro--a lot of people did, which was another thing that really ticked Ando off--but hopefully this world's Nathan had a better opinion of Hiro.

Honestly, the most baffling thing to Ando was that, as much as Hiro was perceived as weird, or annoying, or even downright insane, he never seemed to mind that much. Maybe he didn't even realize what people thought of him. He had a hard time with social cues sometimes. Or maybe he was just too forgiving. Hiro's pure heart was one of his best qualities, but it was also one of his flaws. It was that overly forgiving nature which made Hiro hesitate to kill, even when necessary. Obviously Ando didn't want his friend to go around killing people left and right, but sometimes it was the only way to ensure their safety.

One of the not-so-great things about their stay in the alternate universe was not being able to turn down Claire's invitations to the stadium for risk of seeming rude. In theory it was cool, even fun, to watch two people with powers of approximately equal strength duke it out, but why did the fights always have to be to the death? Ando absolutely hated watching those fights, and he could tell Hiro hated it even more. He once asked Elle why all the matches were to the death, and she just laughed and told him it was more fun that way.

“I mean, sure, they have fights that are just until one person gets knocked out or exits the ring,” she said. “But where are the stakes? That's kids’ stuff. Nah, what folks really want to see is violence.”

“So this is the state of society in your world?” Ando said, motioning to the gruesome battle taking place in the ring below. “It's no better than Roman gladiators!”

As if to accentuate his point, Hiro let out a whimper as one of the people in the ring got one of their legs sliced off. The match this time was between a man who could fire bullets from his mouth and a woman who could turn her arms into blades, and the woman was currently winning. It was horrible to watch, but Ando was glad that at least this time it wasn't between anyone he knew. Placing a reassuring hand atop Hiro's, Ando looked away as the battle raged on. He didn't care who won. He just wanted to get out of there. He wanted to get out of this world.

“Are you sure you can't get us home?” he pleaded once they were back up in the bedroom for the night. Hiro was untying some knots from a piece of red string, looking a bit like a kitten as he fiddled with it. “If I supercharge you and you think really hard about our world, maybe you can get us back.”

“Maybe,” Hiro said. He didn't sound very confident.

Leaning over to pull Hiro into a sort of awkward half-hug, Ando stroked his friend's head. “Hey, it's okay,” he told him. “I know you're doing the best you can.”

Hiro sighed. “But I'm the one who got us stuck here in the first place.”

“That wasn't your fault,” Ando said. “Nobody could have known what would happen. You're a really good man,” he added when Hiro was silent for a moment. “You do know that, right?”

“You don't need to be so nice to me, Ando,” Hiro said. He adjusted his glasses, pouting, and straightened his posture. “It was my fault, and it is my duty to fix my mistake. I just wish I knew how.”

“You'll find a way.” Ando clapped him on the back, and was glad to see a small smile tug at the corner of Hiro's lips. “You always do.”

* * *

People would pay a lot to see their favourite fighters back in the ring, even after suffering horrific losses. One might think that if people wanted fighters to keep their careers going after losing a match, they'd organize more matches which weren't to the death, but then again, the audiences weren't the ones in charge. Unfortunately, bodies often got mangled far beyond repair in these matches, but sometimes they were salvageable. In these cases, when the demand for a dead fighter to get back in the ring outweighed the ethical issues regarding resurrection, Daniel Linderman saw no harm in bending the laws of life and death a little.

Officially, nobody knew about his little underground operation; unofficially, many people knew about it. Only those rich enough to buy their favourite fighter’s resurrection were allowed to know of or observe these matches. People who Linderman brought back were kept in underground compounds, never allowed to leave, and those who worked for him were generally not allowed to quit their jobs. A select few had gotten away from him, and he vowed to never let it happen again. If it ever did, he would be sure to severely punish the escapee.

Currently, Linderman was being positively swamped with demands for the return of a fighter from Tokyo who had recently fallen. However, upon getting one look at the body, he knew it would be an impossible task. It was a general rule of thumb that no amount of healing abilities could resurrect someone whose head was no longer attached to their body. It was unfortunate, as the public no doubt would have paid great sums to see the late time-traveller back in action, but what couldn't be done couldn't be done.

Even more frustratingly, there was even less chance of him being able to salvage Tracy. People had been calling all day and night about her. She had been one of the world's most popular fighters; no doubt audiences would be willing to compensate Lindeman very nicely were she to miraculously come back to life. However, this was simply not possible. What did these people expect him to do, refreeze her remains? She had  _ melted _ after dying. That kind of thing was irreparable.

Perhaps this would finally teach the people running the stadiums a lesson. If they would stop concocting those horrible injections to dull people's powers, maybe they wouldn't keep losing the most popular fighters. Then again, the people putting together those formulas had their own business to think about. It must have paid well to distribute those things. That was the most inconvenient thing about business: everyone had their own personal motivations.

Still, it really was a shame about Hiro. It stung every time Linderman was forced to refuse whatever payment some wealthy Japanese businessman offered. Naturally, he was more inclined to resurrect fighters who he knew people would pay to see, but no bribe was strong enough to change the state of things. Some bodies were just too badly damaged to bring back.

* * *

When Nathan got back from his business trip, the first thing he did upon arriving back at the house was give Claire a hug.

He got the feeling she had been holding in a lot of things over the past week and a half, and as he held her, those things all came tumbling out. He didn't hear most of them, as her voice was muffled as she cried into his shoulder, but he could guess at a few. Revenge wasn't really Nathan's modus operandi, but in that moment as his daughter tearfully recounted the horrific deaths of the Gordon siblings, he wanted to hunt Niki down and destroy her. How dare that woman have made his little girl hurt so much?

Of course, as soon as the moment passed and Nathan's emotions settled, he knew it would be ridiculous to blame Niki. She was no more at fault for killing Meredith and Flint than Claire's friend Elle was for killing that speedster in the match Claire had dragged him to once. It had been Elle’s first fight in an officially sanctioned junction, if he wasn't mistaken, and he had to admit the girl had talent. He wasn't a big fan of her personality--she always came off as a little unhinged--but if worst came to worst, he didn't doubt that she'd make an effective bodyguard for Claire.

“So, I see you didn't burn the house down,” Nathan joked as he and Claire headed upstairs. “Good job there once again.”

“You just say that because you know I'll fail one of these days,” Claire said with a teasing glint in her eye. “If the house really does burn down sometime, you'll never let me hear the end of it.”

Once upstairs, Nathan went to check on his bedroom. Suddenly Claire stopped in her tracks and looked very nervous. Nathan paused, hand on the doorknob, and gave her an inquisitive look. Had she gotten up to something while she was gone?

“Um, Dad?” Claire said with a nervous grin. “Do you want to check out my room first? I, uh, redecorated it a bit.”

Nathan loved his daughter, but she was a terrible liar. It was ironic considering that she'd grown up with a lot to lie about, but then again, when the time had come when he would have lied, Claire sure as hell hadn't. (Or perhaps she really was a good liar, but his career as a politician had rendered him immune). Well, whatever Claire was hiding in his bedroom could wait, he supposed. He wanted to catch up with his daughter a little first.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he said. “Why don't you show me what kind of redecorating you've done?”

As it turned out, Claire actually had redecorated her bedroom quite a bit. She'd hung up twinkle lights--tacky--and painted the once white walls a shade of golden yellow that almost matched her hair. She'd even moved her bed to the other side of the room. Hung up over her bed was a bedazzled poster of her friend Elle--a publicity photo from the stadium. Nathan couldn't say he was a huge fan of the layout, but it certainly looked like the bedroom of a girl her age.

“So, seen any good matches lately?” he asked her as she showed him some photos she had taken. He didn't pay much attention to her pictures. She was quite an amatuer photographer, but even if she’d been more talented at taking pictures, that type of artsy stuff wasn't up his alley.

She shrugged. “Most of them were just okay,” she said. “There was one the other night that was pretty cool, but when it's between a bunch of people I don't know, it's hard to get invested.”

Nathan nodded; he understood her sentiments perfectly. He had never cared much for those ridiculous battles, which in his opinion were extremely overhyped. He knew that Claire liked to watch her friend fight, and that was about it.

“Still,” she amended, “at least with strangers you don't have to worry about someone you love losing the match.”

“Speaking of which, did you hear the news?” Nathan asked. “There was a big stir in Japan recently. Their most famous fighter died.”

At that, Claire went quiet.  _ Crap, was that someone we knew? _ Nathan couldn't remember. It was so hard to keep track of people he didn't really care about. Now that he thought about it, he realized that, yes, both of them had definitely been acquainted with the fighter in question--regrettably so, perhaps, considering the fighter's overly chipper nature. Even so, Nathan supposed he would be missed by the general populace.

“Er, anyways.” Nathan cleared his throat. “I would like to see my room now, if you don't mind.”

“Oh, yeah, it's no problem,” Claire said, a little too quickly. “I've just gotta run downstairs real quick and check on… stuff.”

She ran out of the room and down the hall. Bemused, Nathan headed to his bedroom and opened the door, wondering what on earth he would find that Claire had wanted to hide from him. Nothing, however, could have prepared him for opening the door to find two men sitting on his bed, one of whom was in the process of taping a photo to what appeared to be a conspiracy board.

“Oh!” As Nathan entered the room, the conspiracy board guy turned around, grinning sheepishly. He raised one hand in the Vulcan “live long and prosper” salute--a gesture which Nathan was ashamed to recognize. “N-nice to see you, Flying Man!”


	6. Chapter 6

Hiro could practically see the cogs in Nathan's head spinning as he stared at him. From his calculations about where the timeline had diverged to make this alternate reality, he and Nathan would have still met and had similar interactions to those in his universe, but what if he'd calculated wrong and this Nathan had never met him? Luckily, those worries were put to rest once Nathan gathered himself and spoke, the tension beneath his calm voice thick enough to cut and his gaze sharp enough to do the cutting.

“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom, Hiro?”

“Claire is letting us stay here for a while,” he explained, hoping he wouldn't mind that she hadn't gotten permission for this. “We don't have anywhere to go at the moment, so--”

“Wait a minute.” Nathan narrowed his eyes, tone sharpening. “I thought you had died. It was all over the news last week.”

“I didn't,” Hiro said. “Claire can explain it all to you later, I'm sure.”

Nathan raised his eyebrows. “I think there are quite a few things Claire can explain to me.”

As he left the room, Hiro groaned and flopped down so he was laying on his back on the bed. “What are we gonna do now?” he lamented to Ando. “Nathan will probably kick us out now that he knows we're here.”

“Maybe Claire will convince him to let us stay,” Ando said, but he didn't sound like he even believed himself.

Hiro sighed and sat back up. He finished taping his picture into place on his board--perhaps it would have been better to use thumbtacks, but he didn't know how many of those there were in the house. Plus, he didn't trust himself not to prick his thumb.

“On the bright side, I think I've finally figured out how this universe came to be,” he said, beckoning Ando over to look at his mess of photos, news clippings, and red string. He tapped a childhood photo of Claire standing next to Meredith--the fire woman from the stadium. “It's all because in this world, Claire was raised by her biological mother.”

“Okay…” Ando said, running his finger across a piece of string that led to a newspaper article about a young girl in Texas exhibiting superhuman healing abilities. “This article is dated way earlier than when Claire jumped off the ferris wheel in our world. Do you think that's because she wasn't adopted?”

Hiro nodded and adjusted his glasses. “Without Noah’s vigilance, she revealed the existence of people with powers before the world was ready for them,” he said. Although really he was still just speculating, he felt pretty confident in this theory. “People start organizing death battles between superpowered people, and the rest is history.”

“But that doesn't explain why some people who are dead in our world are still alive,” Ando pointed out. He motioned to a photograph of Claire with Elle (on a date?) labeled 12/09/10.

“The specifics are hard to pin down,” Hiro admitted. He now had great respect for people like Mohinder’s dad, who had put together much larger conspiracy boards with a greater degree of success. “Maybe Elle can explain it to us.”

Elle wasn't at the house at the moment; she was out doing some training for her upcoming match. She still wouldn't say who it was going to be against, though.

Whatever the details of how this world had come to be, Hiro reflected, it truly was a horrifying version of reality. How could people be so casual about death battles? To that end, why had his alternate self participated in them? It was something Hiro was certain he'd never do if he had the choice. Then again, who could say if the people in this world did have a choice?

* * *

It had happened like this.

When Meredith Gordon's house had burned down with her baby daughter inside, she had thought it was a miracle that the baby survived. Shaken by the experience, she had vowed to never let anything happen to Claire again. Meredith had enlisted her brother’s help in raising Claire, having Flint act as a bodyguard of sorts to her in case the Company should try to come after them again; Nathan took great measures to avoid any involvement in their lives. Claire Gordon, while never particularly close to her mother, had picked up Meredith’s devil-may-care attitude. At fourteen, she had filmed videos of her newfound healing ability and uploaded them to the internet. These videos had caused quite a stir, and soon others like her began to follow in her footsteps, uploading videos and exposing themselves to the world. It was widely considered to be the first “YouTube trend”.

With his illegitimate daughter suddenly gaining popularity online, Nathan Petrelli took advantage of the situation and promised to “improve the situation” regarding people with powers if he was elected senator. He kept his wording vague enough that he managed to gain a lot of support from both people with powers who wanted to be safe, and those who were against the very existence of such individuals. As such, he won without the election needing to be rigged, meaning Linderman did not kidnap Micah and, therefore, was not killed by DL.

There were quite a lot of mixed reactions to the existence of people with powers, which came to a head following the showdown at Kirby Plaza. Some groups argued that anyone with the power to cause nuclear explosions was too dangerous to be allowed freedom, while others disagreed. However, one man had plans of his own for these people. That man was widowed car salesman turned ruthless Company man Noah Bennet, who was seeking revenge on people with powers after one of them had caused the death of his wife. Without a daughter to act as a moral compass, his gray morality quickly darkened into evil. It reached a point where his work with the Company wasn’t enough for him any longer. Working underground so as not to raise suspicion, Noah formed the first fighting ring for superpowered individuals. Matches started out as shady business, something in the vein of cockfighting. Then, when struggling single mom Niki Sanders entered the ring, Noah’s business got its big breakthrough.

Niki was amazing, and the crowds loved her. As she worked her way up the ranks, she got enough money to properly treat her mental illness. She did not inadvertently cause her husband's death, and she did not have to send her son away to stay with the Dawsons, so she did not die in an explosion to save Monica. Monica herself, unfortunately, was not so lucky--she was indoctrinated into the fighting ring herself after her abilities manifested, but she didn’t last long. A few months later, Tracy's power manifested and she tracked Niki down. They started battling together, as partners, and for years remained the most formidable duo of the ring.

Meanwhile, a fresh new face (or more accurately, a very old one) entered the ring. Adam Monroe the immortal samurai wasn't quite as popular a fighter, but he certainly made quite a name for himself. Around this time, Hiro started participating in matches, hoping to be pitted against Adam so he could bring his old enemy down. Hiro liked to cheat the system by winning without actually killing his opponent, which made him a very controversial fighter. Hiro's close friend and partner, Ando, started fighting as well a short time later after giving himself a synthetic ability of his own. They weren’t the most talented or the most popular at first, but they quickly gained a cult following.

While he was an amnesiac in Ireland, Peter also got roped into the business of death matches, and immediately became wildly popular. He wanted to stop entering the matches upon regaining his memories, but the business behind the stadiums wouldn’t let him. Like Hiro, he tried to win fights without killing anyone, but sometimes he had no choice. With each life he was forced to take within the ring, his mental health declined, which was made worse by his rocky relationship with his brother. Nathan’s stance on people with abilities continued to wobble back and forth, but never tipped far enough to either side that he would do anything as drastic as he would have in a universe where powers were still secret.

Of course not everybody was a big fan of these matches. Mohinder Suresh, the world’s leading expert on superpowered individuals, strongly opposed the idea, stating that it was immoral and cruel. Sadly, no matter how many protests were held, it didn't make a difference. The business was simply too lucrative. In fact, for people with powers who were struggling financially, it was one of the best opportunities to make some money--provided they were strong enough to survive, of course.

With the existence of people with powers out in the open, certain things that may have otherwise been kept secret rose to the attention of the media. The Company was exposed and soon after disbanded, with Arthur Petrelli’s plans being nipped in the bud before he could even be woken from his coma. Sylar was hunted down and dealt with--although nobody ever found out what exactly happened to him. Unfortunately, no real support system was put in place for those freed from the Company's clutches. With nowhere to go and no-one to turn to, Elle began entering illegal matches for a living. At one of these matches, she was about to finish off her opponent when the police showed up and brought the match to a premature end. Taking sympathy for her, her opponent--Meredith--took Elle back to her place. That was when Elle met Claire.

The two young women formed a strong bond, and although Claire's perky disposition annoyed Elle at first, she had to admit it was kind of cute. They started dating once Claire turned 17. Technically she knew she should have waited until she was 18 so it would've been legal, but Elle couldn't quite wait that extra year, and neither could Claire. Due to their age gap, they kept their relationship a secret from everyone, even Claire's parents.

With people with powers already having been long since exposed, there was never a time when Nathan tried revealing them only to be shot by Peter’s future counterpart. Without this happening, Matt didn’t end up in Africa and learn from Usutu about his fated relationship with Daphne Millbrook. Somehow, though, fate still found a way to bring Matt and Daphne together. However, even in this universe, the relationship they cultivated together was brought to a violent end along with Daphne’s life--albeit under different circumstances. Nobody in this world could hope to get away with rounding up and abducting people with powers, let along gunning them down. With the ever-growing popularity of the death matches, the general public relied on people with powers for entertainment.

Superpowered rights weren't looking very good in recent years, and following the deaths of over a hundred people at the hands of Samuel Sullivan, public opinion on them was only getting worse. Shortly after this tragedy, Peter had taken off, effectively vanishing into the night. Some speculated that his disappearance was linked to that of Sylar; rumours ranged from them having killed each other to being secret lovers who ran away together.

Now, with death battles between people with powers at their height and several influential figures from the ring having recently met their ends, it was hard to say what direction things would take. Whichever way the tides turned, one thing was clear: the world wasn't tired of these matches quite yet.

* * *

It came as no surprise to Hiro that Nathan kicked him and Ando out of the Petrelli residence. He didn't have a huge problem with it, either, as he had known from the beginning that that particular living arrangement wouldn't last. If anything, being without a place to go in this universe increased his motivation to get home. Change had never sat well with him, and all the subtle changes in this universe were driving him crazy, especially when piled on top of this world's distinguishing characteristic: the death battles.

It was just so messed up that people in this world watched such awful things for fun. It was absolutely tasteless, and the worst thing about it was how recently the timeline had diverged to create such a twisted reality. In that way, it really wasn't like the mirror universe in  _ Star Trek  _ at all, since the mirrorverse had differed from the prime timeline from the beginnings of civilization to the point where characters’ mirror counterparts were nothing like their regular selves. In this world, Claire was hardly any different from the version of her Hiro knew. If his friends’ alternate selves watched people like him fight to the death without a second thought, even enjoying the spectacle, didn't that mean that those same people held the potential to be so heartless in his own world? He didn't like to think so, but…

No. That couldn't be right--the bleakness of this world was getting to him. Hiro shook his head to clear his negative thoughts. No matter how bad things were here, he couldn't start thinking like that! He had to believe in the goodness of people, because otherwise, what did he have to go on?

_I_ will _get home someday,_ he thought determinedly. _Ando and I both._ _We won't be stuck here forever._

Now, as Hiro and Ando stood in an alleyway and prepared to attempt teleporting back to their reality, Hiro was looking forward to leaving behind this disturbing alternate reality for good.

“Just close your eyes and focus on your apartment,” Ando encouraged him, placing a hand on Hiro's forearm. “Think about how much you want to be back there.”

Taking in a deep breath, Hiro followed his friend's advice. He formed a picture of his somewhat messy living space in his head: the posters hung up on the walls; the pile of video games and DVDs stacked beside the tv; his bookshelf which was overflowing with comic books. Then, feeling his friend's power flow through him, he tried to imagine returning to that spot.  _ That's where I want to be right now. _

When Hiro opened his eyes, his shoulders immediately slumped in disappointment. They weren't in his apartment, but rather back at the Tokyo stadium. There was no match going on at the moment, so the stadium was completely empty. It was kind of unsettling to be in such an open, empty dark space, especially when the smell of blood still hung heavy in the air. Although the stagelights were off, Hiro could make out the dull sheen of some sort of sticky substance coating parts of the ring--a battle must have taken place there quite recently.

Hiro heard an impressed whistle from behind him. He turned around to see a man in a business suit standing up in the effects booth, clapping.

“Well, well, well. Teleportation, eh?” the man said. He spoke with a thick Osakan accent. “We just lost somebody like that. One of our most popular guys--shame, too; he was such a sweet kid.”

“It is a shame,” Hiro said. He was grateful for the dim lighting so the man in the effects booth wouldn't recognize him.

“Oh, I think I saw that in the news,” Ando added. “Hiro, right? He looked like a good fighter.”

“Not good enough, unfortunately,” the Osakan said with a sad laugh. “Anyhow, I'd offer you a chance to join the ring, but I'd hate for them to accuse ya of being a Hiro knockoff.”

Stifling a snicker, Hiro exchanged a bemused glance with Ando. “You're certainly right about that.”

“How about yer buddy there?” the Osakan inquired, pointing at Ando. “Has he got any tricks to show me?”

“Me? Uh, no,” Ando lied. Turning to Hiro, he muttered, “How are we going to explain why we're here?”

“Don't worry; I've got this,” Hiro promised. Stepping up to address the effects booth guy directly, he raised his voice perhaps a bit more than necessary. “We thought there might be a match going on, but we can see there isn't, so we'll just be going now. Don't mind us!”

Grabbing Ando’s wrist, he teleported them away before the Osakan could ask any more questions. They reappeared outside the stadium, where a few people were milling about. Understandable--it was a lovely day to go for a walk downtown.

“So, teleporting us home didn't work,” Hiro said. “Maybe we should see if it works better with  _ your _ apartment.”

“I doubt it,” said Ando. “We'll probably just end up in the alternate version of my place. What if we run into alternate-me?”

As much as Hiro wanted to be optimistic, his friend was right. Still, he figured it was at least worth a shot--but in the very likely situation that Ando’s prediction was correct, it would be best for Hiro to go alone. Seeing other versions of himself was always weird for him when he went into the future, and he wanted to spare his friend from a similar experience.

* * *

When Hiro materialized in Ando’s apartment, alive and well, Ando went through something like the reverse stages of grief in the span of an instant. At first he thought,  _ oh, Hiro's here. Of course. _ Why wouldn't Hiro be there? Hiro basically lived there ever since the complex which formerly held his own apartment had gotten converted into a stadium. Then he remembered what had happened two weeks prior. It couldn't really be Hiro, could it? Adam had killed him. Ando had--god, it hurt to even think it--Ando had watched him die. But here he was--Hiro--like nothing had ever happened to him. Was this some kind of horrible trick?

But no, it was really Hiro. He knew the instant they locked eyes. Hiro looked apprehensive for a moment, then smiled nervously and adjusted his glasses.

“Hello, An--”

He didn't even finish his greeting before Ando rushed over to him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Hiro stumbled backward, letting out a little squeak of surprise, but then he returned the hug.  _ I knew you were alive. _ In that moment, Ando felt guilty for ever having believed that Hiro was gone. Nobody could kill him--he was Hiro! It just wouldn't have been right for the world to let that happen.

“Oh, god, Hiro,” Ando murmured as they pulled apart. “I missed you so much. Where have you been?”

“Well, you know me,” Hiro mumbled. He fixed his gaze on his shoes, which he shuffled awkwardly on the floor. “I've just been… up to hero things.”

Ando was confused by his friend's apprehension. He was used to Hiro not looking him in the eyes--Hiro didn’t always make eye contact when he was talking to people, depending on what else he was currently focused on. But downright  _ avoiding  _ eye contact? Hiro wasn't telling him something. As Ando scanned his friend's face, he noticed that it was missing something: a scar across the bridge of the nose that Hiro had attained in his first match. The fight had been against a speedster armed with a knife, and it had established a long-lasting rivalry between the two. Ando’s stomach sank as he made an awful realization.

“You…” he sighed. “You're not my Hiro, are you?”

A guilty look flashed in Hiro’s eyes and he shook his head sadly. “I'm sorry, my friend,” he whispered. “I wish I could tell you that your version of me is still alive, but I don't think he is.”

Tears pricked at Ando’s eyes and he tried unsuccessfully to blink them back. “A-are you from the past, then?” he asked, his voice cracking as he regarded the man who wasn't really his late friend. “Have you come to save the world and stop all this from happening?”

“...Something like that.”

“Well, good luck,” Ando said. He wiped tears from his eyes, cursing himself for being such a sentimental fool. He was almost as bad as Hiro himself. “Honestly? I wouldn't mind if this version of me stopped existing.”

_ I'm nothing without you.  _ He didn't say it aloud, not willing to subject this other version of Hiro to his emotional baggage, but he hoped it went without saying.

* * *

Hiro reappeared outside the stadium with a droop to him that Ando immediately recognized. It was that miserable expression he got whenever something terrible had happened that he couldn't quite process yet, or possibly blamed himself for. It was when Hiro had that look about him when Ando heard him say things like  _ “I couldn't save Charlie.” “My mother died in my arms.” “I have a brain tumor.”  _ It was, needless to say, an expression that Ando hated seeing on his friend's face.

“Hiro, what happened?”

“I…” Hiro blinked back tears, his rosy cheeks wobbling as he tried not to cry. “I met alternate-you. He thought I was his world's version of me, and I had to tell him I wasn't.”

“Aw, Hiro,” Ando murmured. Taking Hiro's hand, he leaned down to press their foreheads together. “It's okay.”

“Ando, I'm worried about you,” Hiro confessed. “Alternate-you basically told me he wants to die since he doesn't have me--er, alternate-me--anymore. Would you feel the same way if--”

“Hiro, nothing is ever going to happen to you,” Ando interrupted. He could see where Hiro was headed, and he didn't like it. “I wouldn't let anything happen.”

Hiro gave him a look as if to say,  _ you know you can't promise that. _ Ando knew, but it just wasn't something he liked to acknowledge. They'd already suffered enough, hadn't they? Surely the universe wouldn't be cruel enough to take Hiro away. He was just such a good man; the world needed him in it. Why was Hiro even talking about this? Alternate-Hiro had only died because of the death battles that didn't even exist in their world! Once they were back in the correct universe, it'd be a moot point.

Hiro sniffled and gave Ando a bittersweet smile. “It’s lucky that I can get us out of danger whenever I need to,” he said. “Otherwise, sometimes I worry I would do something stupid.”

“Like what?”

“Like dying for you,” Hiro said with a shrug. The nonchalance with which he said it was astounding, and Ando was about to offer up a horrified objection to him even  _ saying _ such a thing when Hiro added, “But since I have my powers, I don't have to die for you. That’s lucky, isn’t it?”

Ando had no idea what to say to that. He’d always known that Hiro highly valued his wellbeing and wanted to protect him, but to a potentially sacrificial degree? That was absolutely off the table. All he could do was nod in stunned agreement at Hiro’s sentiment. Yeah, if Hiro really would have been willing to die for Ando’s sake, it was definitely a good thing he didn’t have to. Ando had no idea what he’d do without Hiro.


	7. Chapter 7

Elle was really looking forward to her upcoming match. As the date crept closer, she stepped up her standard training regimen. She started setting up training dummies to battle against and everything. One morning, as she blasted the crap out of a dummy in the Petrellis’ basement, Claire came downstairs with some coffee and toast to watch her practice. She stayed mostly quiet as Elle did her thing, apart from the occasional shout of encouragement. Elle appreciated that; even though there would be a noisy crowd at the real match, for training it was nice not to have any disruptions.

Once the training dummy was basically burnt to a crisp, Claire clapped her on the back and kissed her hand like an old-fashioned gentleman courting his lady. “Great form, babe,” she said. “You're totally gonna blow everyone away out there.”

Elle blushed at her girlfriend's praise, but she wasn't sure how much it could be believed. She could have had terrible form and missed every shot, and Claire still would have said she did great. She knew she'd have to really make every attack count when it came time for her fight, because from what she understood, the guy she'd be facing was almost as good as her, with a power just as deadly. If she wasn't careful, she could very well end up dead, and that was the last thing she wanted. She couldn't afford to die; Claire needed her.

Now, Elle was no moron. She knew that those freaky alternate-universe versions of Hiro and Ando thought she was a monster for being willing to murder people--enjoying it, even. And okay, so maybe the enjoying it part was a little messed up, but so what? That was just the way things were in this world, and Elle was better off getting a little pleasure out of it than wallowing in guilt every time she killed someone in the ring. It was either her or them. Anyway, whatever those guys thought of her, it didn't bother her much. People had been calling her a monster her whole life. The only person who ever seemed to see her as a nice, normal person was Claire. Claire was wrong, of course, but that didn't mean Elle liked everybody else being right.

“So, who exactly are you going to be fighting, anyway?” Claire asked as they sat together on the basement steps. She had finished off her toast and was currently sipping her coffee, which still looked way too hot. Lucky Claire--with her healing power, she never had to worry about burning her tongue.

Elle shrugged. Her agent had given her a vague idea, but sometimes they liked to keep people's opponents a secret until the day of the match to make things more exciting. She almost wondered if her opponent had even been picked yet. “Some guy with a pretty good power,” she said. “That's all I know.”

“I bet he won't be as strong as you,” Claire said.

“Hope not,” Elle muttered. Worry clouded Claire's face--oops, better quell that. “Don't worry, I'll win.”

Even if it wasn't something she could be sure of, it was better for Claire not to be concerned about Elle’s wellbeing. The poor girl had enough on her plate already. Elle’s fight was Elle’s problem, and if she lost, it would be her fault for not being strong enough.

“If you need more practice, you can test some moves out on me,” Claire offered. “That way it could be like a training session for both of us.”

“Good idea,” Elle said. Then Claire's words caught up to her. “Wait, for both of us? Why do you need to train, Pom-pom?”

Claire tapped her fingers on her coffee mug, studying the coffee intently. “...I signed up for a match yesterday,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “It's going to be at the New York stadium on Saturday.”

“What?!” Elle practically shrieked. Claire flinched. “Claire, you can't do that! What if your dad finds out? He's going to flip!”

“He won't,” Claire said. “He doesn't even care about me anyway,” she added with a dismissive flip of her hair. Elle could tell she didn't mean it, but she decided not to call her girlfriend out. Even if Nathan did care, he was still a jerk, and it was valid for Claire to be ticked at him.

Still… what was Claire thinking? Sure, Elle knew Claire would be fine--she couldn't be killed, after all--but even so, putting herself on the line like that seemed so unnecessary. She sure as hell didn't need the money, so was she just doing it for the attention? Elle wanted to try talking Claire out of it, but when that girl made up her mind, there was no changing it. All she could do was try to contact someone who could do something about it--if not to talk Claire down, then at least to keep an eye on her in case things got ugly in the ring.

* * *

After their failed attempt to get home, Hiro and Ando spent the next few days in a seedy little hotel in the shady part of New York City. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but it was the only place in New York they could afford to stay. And they wanted to stay in New York, because as long as they couldn't find their way home, sticking close to the alternate version of Claire seemed like a safe bet. They had no clue as to the location of their other friends’ counterparts, and this version of Claire seemed almost as nice as their own, even if Hiro didn't approve of her relationship with Elle.

One day, Hiro received an urgent phone call from Elle. He was a bit surprised to hear from her, as he was quite aware that she thought none too highly of him. It made a little more sense when she explained that she was calling about Claire.

“She's got a match at the stadium scheduled for tomorrow,” Elle told him, a slight crackle to her transmitted voice. She must have been leaning into the phone so he could hear her, as she sounded like she was whispering. “I want you to be there to keep an eye on her. If anything happens, feel free to interfere, but don't make it obvious that you did. She's too proud to know she's being helped.”

“I'll do what I can,” Hiro promised, alarmed by this revelation. Why would Claire, even this alternate version of her, enter such a competition? Even in this world, she wasn't a killer. Was she?

The next day, Hiro and Ando showed up at the New York stadium to watch Claire's match. They once again sat toward the back so Claire wouldn't be able to see them in the audience; Elle was sitting toward the front. She cheered when Claire walked onstage, introduced by the announcer as “The Indestructible Girl”.

Claire's battle outfit was styled after her old cheerleading uniform, but with fake blood splatter across the front in place of a school logo. She was armed with a dagger. Her opponent, who the announcer introduced as “The Lady Blade”, was a woman who Hiro recognized from an earlier match he had attended. She was the one who could turn her arms into blades. This was surely going to be an interesting fight.

Things started off with a bang as Claire ran right at her opponent, dagger at the ready. The Lady Blade stepped deftly aside, slicing upward at Claire with her blade-arm. Claire's cheek was sliced open, but she barely even flinched as she turned to attack again, her wound closing up in seconds. This time her dagger found its mark in her opponent’s shoulder, where she twisted it around with gritted teeth even as the other woman sliced through her chest and stomach. Yanking her dagger out, Claire jumped back and took a moment to catch her breath as her torso knitted itself back together. Then she took a running leap at her opponent, who intercepted her with a slash which severed one of Claire's legs in a tremendous burst of blood that made Hiro wince and look away. Claire fell, dropping her dagger, which skittered to a stop a few feet away from her.

“ _ Ow _ ,” Claire moaned as a new leg slowly began to form in place of the severed appendage. The Lady Blade cackled and swung her blade-arm toward her--aiming right at her neck.

That wasn't good. Claire's head was her weakness--if it was cut off, she would die for good. As the blade neared its target, Hiro froze time and ran down to the ring, hopping over the boundary a bit more clumsily than he would have hoped. There, he carefully lowered the Lady Blade’s arm so that it was aiming for Claire's chest rather than her neck. Then he returned to his seat and unpaused time.

The blade swung forward and Claire was sliced open--a horrific sight which Hiro flinched at the sight of. However, of course Claire didn't stay down. She hopped up before her chest was even finished healing and lunged for her opponent, managing to bury her knife in the Lady Blade’s gut. A few seconds later, the battle was won.

Hiro didn't feel right about clapping for Claire. In a sense he was proud of her, but did killing someone really warrant applause? Obviously the people of this world thought so, as the crowd went absolutely wild for Claire. Making out individual cheers was next to impossible, but he could have sworn he heard Elle cry, “That's my girlfriend!”

After the match, as they were preparing to leave, an older man approached them and pulled Hiro aside. He didn't look very happy. Reading his name tag, Hiro realized that he was The Lady Blade’s agent.

“Something fishy went on in that ring today,” he said to Hiro. “And I think you're responsible.”

Hiro gulped. “Y-you do?”

The agent nodded. “My fighter was about to cut off that girl's head,” he said. “Then I blinked and suddenly she was aiming at the chest. Now, I recognize you from tv--you're that Japanese guy who does the time stuff.”

“I think you're mistaking me for--”

“Don't lie to me, shortstack,” the agent growled. “I think you stopped time and changed the game so your friend would win. And let me tell you, I will not let it happen again.”

Hiro was about to ask how he planned to stop him when the agent drew out a syringe filled with a dark gray liquid. Just looking at it made Hiro's heart speed up.  _ What is that stuff?  _ Whimpering, he took a step back, but the agent grabbed him by the arm and pushed his sleeve up.

“This here's to nerf your power a bit,” he explained, chuckling at Hiro's struggle to get away. “You can keep the teleportation, but stopping time is gonna have to go. Don't worry,” he added as Hiro's eyes widened in dread, “It's temporary. You should be good to go in a couple weeks.”

With that, he jabbed the needle into Hiro's arm. Hiro yelped as a sharp, stinging pain shot through him. It was quickly followed by a deep, dull pain which spread throughout his body as the agent walked off. Groaning, Hiro sank to his knees, clutching at his arm. There was no way that injection would really affect his powers, would it? He screwed up his face and tried to stop time. He opened his eyes. Time went on unpaused.  _ Uh-oh. _ In theory he could live without it for a couple weeks, but if the need arose for him to freeze time within those few weeks, he'd be out of luck.

“Hiro? Hiro, where'd you go?” Hiro heard Ando calling for him, voice full of concern. His friend rounded the corner to the back of the stadium where Hiro was kneeling, still clutching his sore arm. “Oh, there you are! What happened?”

“Nothing,” Hiro said. He felt a pang of guilt about lying, but he didn't want Ando to worry about him. “I just got lost.”

Ando looked down at Hiro's arm, eyes widening. A few of the veins were visible through his skin, pulsating in the same shade of gray as the liquid from the injection. “Is your arm okay?”

“It's fine,” Hiro said quickly. He hastily tugged his sleeve back down before letting his friend grab his arm and pull him to his feet. “Come on, let's go.”


	8. Chapter 8

The first thing Claire did upon getting home after her fight was strip off her uniform and throw it in the laundry. She then took a long, hot shower in hopes that it would make her feel less filthy all over. It felt nice to scrub away the sweat caked over her body and the literal blood on her hands, but there was figurative blood there too which wasn't so easily cleansed. Part of her hated herself for having killed her opponent, even though she'd had no other choice. She didn’t even know why she’d entered a match to begin with--just to prove to herself that she was capable, she supposed. Hopefully the regret would go away after a while.

Nathan had left earlier that night for another business trip, so after her match, Claire invited Hiro and Ando to stay at her place again. They were grateful for the invitation; Claire guessed that wherever they had been staying in the meantime hadn't exactly been prime real estate. That night, the group of three stayed up late talking about the fight. Elle, however, went to bed early. Her own match was coming up in just a few days, and she needed all the rest she could get--that was her excuse, anyway. Personally, Claire felt like her girlfriend may have wanted to avoid discussing the fight. She hoped she was wrong, but with Elle, who could say?

“You know, for a moment there I thought I was done for,” she admitted as she lounged on the sofa next to the guys. “I could've sworn that blade-arm was heading straight for my throat!”

She lifted her hand up to her neck in a chopping gesture to demonstrate. As she said this, Hiro's eyes went wide for a moment. She figured he was horrified at the thought of her dying.  _ I don't blame you, buddy. _

“...Good thing I was wrong about that,” she went on, lowering her hand away from her neck. “Weird, though--it almost looked like the lady changed where she was aiming.”

“You probably imagined it,” said Ando. Hiro looked a little uneasy, almost like he knew something the others didn't, but he nodded in agreement.

Claire also agreed that it probably had been just her mind playing tricks on her, but the thought of a blade whizzing straight for her throat was still scary enough to turn her off the idea of entering any more matches any time soon. Plus, proud as she was for winning, she wasn't in the mood to make a habit out of killing people. What she'd done in the ring that evening didn't sit right with her. Of course she'd known going in that she'd have to kill her opponent, but knowing you had to kill someone and actually killing them were two very different things.

Maybe that was why Elle didn't want to talk about it. She probably didn't like the fact that Claire had blood on her hands now. If so, it was awfully hypocritical of her--Elle was one of the most ruthless fighters Claire knew. It didn't make her a bad person, though! Elle’s stage name was the Electric Soldier, but deep down Claire knew she was--as clichéd as the phrase was--a lover, not a fighter.

Well, okay, so maybe that wasn't totally accurate. Elle  _ was _ a fighter. She loved being in the ring. But that didn't mean she had no soft side, or even kind of a sweet side. And Claire didn't see why it should have been any different for her. She, too, could be both dangerous and sweet. Nobody had the right to be mad at her because she wasn't their innocent little girl any longer. She had stopped being innocent a long time ago. Everybody had just been too busy trying to shield her to notice.

The next morning, Claire got woken up by the sounds of Elle training again. She thought about going downstairs to watch, but decided not to this time. If Elle was going to ignore Claire, then Claire would return that treatment. Even so, from the sounds of it, her girlfriend was doing pretty well. Claire had to admit she was impressed. At the rate Elle was training at, her opponent in the upcoming match would totally be toast--probably literally, depending on how much lightning they got zapped with.

As Claire listened to the crackle of lightning coming from the basement, she stewed over how Nathan hadn't been there to attend her fight. It was stupid of her to be upset about it--she hadn't even told him that she had entered a match to begin with. There was no way he ever would have approved, and besides, his job was way more important. He probably wouldn't be back in time for Elle’s match either. It wasn't that she didn't understand, but… it just wasn't fair. Her father was the only family she had who was still around, and he was so unreliable that he may as well have not even existed! She missed her mom-- _ damn you, Niki Sanders. _ She missed Peter. She wished he could have at least told her before vanishing like he had. Was he even still alive? Who knew? Certainly not her!

Maybe in a better world, Claire would have had a real family. Maybe she wouldn't have had to rely on Elle to keep her company. But on the other hand, Claire wouldn't have wanted to live in a world where she  _ didn't  _ have Elle to keep her company. Her love was just about the only thing that kept Claire going some days.

Was that sad? It was probably pretty sad.

* * *

Later that night, after Claire had gone to bed, Hiro pulled Elle aside. After making her promise not to tell the others, he told her about the injection.

“What was that formula?” he asked her. "Why did the agent have it?"

“Oh, stadiums always have formulas like that on hand,” she said, as casually as though it were common knowledge. In this world, perhaps it was. “Think back to the fight between the Twin Dragons and the Icebreakers. If Tracy had been at full power for that fight, it would've lasted under a minute.”

Now that Hiro thought about it, Elle definitely had a point. He had seen Tracy in action once--she'd destroyed his sword like it was nothing, and he got the feeling she wouldn't have hesitated to do the same to him. The same could have gone for Niki; her superstrength had seemed just a little less super than usual in the ring. But why would anyone agree to have their power weakened? Didn't that defeat the whole point of these matches?

“If everybody pays their money for five seconds of action, nobody will want to go back for more,” Elle explained. “People want their faves to stand a chance in the ring, so the corporations behind the whole operation developed a formula to nerf people’s abilities.”

“And is there any way to reverse the formula?”

Elle shook her head. “Nope. You'll just have to wait for the effects to wear off naturally.”

Hiro frowned. He wasn't sure that waiting that long was an option. What if somebody needed his help again? At least he still had his teleportation, though. If worst came to worst, he supposed he could still just pop into the ring and get whoever needed his help out of there.

Still, he hoped it wouldn't come to that, and somehow he got the feeling it wouldn't. After her brush with death that evening, he had a hard time picturing Claire going back in the ring anytime soon.

* * *

Ando--the version of him who belonged in this world, and who had already lost the man he loved most in the world--was supposed to have a match in a few days. It would be overseas, but that would be no problem. The organizations behind the stadiums covered all transport costs. He was supposed to go out there into the ring and battle someone. He was supposed to look at the crowd during his fight and know that his friend was nowhere in the crowd. That he was nowhere in the world.

There were a lot of things that Ando was supposed to do. He didn't feel like doing any of them. He was supposed to keep living. He didn't feel like doing that either. If Hiro-from-the-past was going to prevent this reality from ever coming to be, it didn't matter much, did it? He'd just cease to exist along with the rest of this stupid world. He may as well just sit back and wait to vanish into oblivion.

Three days before his match, Ando got fed up with waiting to stop existing. He climbed to the top of an office building--not just any office building. Yamagato Industries, where he and Hiro had once worked together. Together, like they had lived their lives. Together, like they still should have been. There, too many stories above the ground for anyone to survive a fall from, he stood and wished one last time for Hiro to come back to him. His wish did not come true.

He was supposed to have a match three days from then. He wouldn't be around for it.

If Hiro had still been around, he would have come to the rescue just in time. He would have stopped time and set Ando down gently on the ground and told him never to do anything like that ever again. Ando would have listened to him, because with Hiro, he would have still had something to live for. He wouldn't have even jumped to begin with.

Hiro would have come to his rescue.

He did not.

* * *

Two days before Elle’s match, Ando barged in on Hiro while he was making some alterations to his conspiracy board. He was having a hard time deducing whether or not the Company still existed in this world or not. There was a picture of Angela Petrelli and her husband standing next to Linderman, but they had been friends before the Company anyway, so it was hard to tell.

“Hiro, I think I've figured out a way for us to get home,” Ando exclaimed.

“Really?!” Hiro was instantly jerked away from his thoughts on the Company. Who cared whether or not they existed in this world when he might not even have to stay in this world any longer? “How?”

“Okay, so you said the timeline diverged somewhere around here, right?” Ando tapped a baby picture of Claire labeled 5/16/92. “If you take us back in time to then, we can make sure events proceed like they did in our world, and then when we return to the present it will be our reality again!”

That did sound like it could have worked, and for a moment Hiro was excited until he remembered the injection. Until the effects of the drug wore off, his friend's plan would have to wait. He still didn't want to admit that his ability to control time had been temporarily taken away, though, so he'd have to come up with some other reason to remain in this universe for a little while longer. Lucky for him, he did have a legitimate reason already.

“That's a great idea,” he said. “But what about Elle’s match?”

“What about it?” Ando said. “Getting home is more important than making some alternate version of a  _ villain  _ happy!”

“It's not just about Elle,” Hiro said. “Claire wants us to be there. I think she's counting on it.”

Ando's brow furrowed. “Tell me you're not serious,” he muttered. “Hiro, that's not even our Claire! Why do you care more about her being happy than us getting back to our world?”

“So just because she's from a different reality, her feelings don't matter?” Hiro demanded. How could his friend even think like that? “That's not fair, Ando! Think about how you'd feel.”

Ando opened his mouth as though to make some retort, but he said nothing. Shaking his head sadly, he turned to leave the room. Hiro jumped down from the bed and ran down the hall after him.

“Wait,” Hiro said. “I do want to go home, you know I do! I just want to do this one thing first.”

At the top of the stairs, Ando stopped and looked over his shoulder at Hiro, who was currently trying not to cry. He hated when his friend got mad at him. It usually never lasted beyond a few harsh words and a bit of glaring, but it still stung. Hiro couldn't stand knowing that he'd done or said something to make Ando upset.

“Think about it,” Hiro pleaded. “Alternate-me is dead, and alternate-you told me he wants to die--I don't know if he's even still alive. These versions of us might be the only ones left.”

“Hiro--” Ando began.

“I'm not saying we have to stay here forever,” Hiro went on, not giving his friend a chance to object. “But I don't want to just leave this world's Claire alone. She's so much more alone than the one from our world,” he added softly as he thought of her broken family.

Ando was silent for a moment. Then he walked over and pulled Hiro into a hug. “You're right,” he said. “I'm sorry I yelled at you.”

“It's okay.”

“No, it's not. That was out of line on my behalf,” Ando said. “I'm sorry I'm so selfish.”

“You're not selfish,” Hiro told him. “You just want what we both do: to go home.”


	9. Chapter 9

When the day of Elle’s big fight finally came, Claire couldn't have been prouder. She bought front-row seats, and invited as many people as she could think of to come watch the show with her. Hiro and Ando agreed to come. So did a couple of her friends from college. Nathan, unfortunately, was away on business again, and Claire still didn't know of Peter's whereabouts, but she tried everything she could to get in touch with him (sadly, it wasn't successful). She even invited friends-of-the-family Mohinder Suresh and Matt Parkman, and thought about inviting Niki as well, but… no. She wouldn't have felt comfortable having Niki there. Again, nothing personal, but Niki had killed Meredith and Flint. Claire didn't want her at Elle’s match.

They must have looked like quite the odd procession: four grown men and a small cluster of teenage girls, with none of them clearly being related to each other. Not that anyone was likely to notice; everyone there was caught up in the excitement of the impending spectacle.

There was a lot of buzz surrounding the event--“ _ an electro-showdown _ ”, it was being marketed as. By the time they arrived, the parking lot was packed, and Claire was forced to circle back and park on a nearby side street. This cost them a bit of time, and Claire was worried that the match would already be starting by the time they got inside. There was a hot dog vendor outside the stadium, and as Claire & co. filed inside the stadium, Hiro offered to buy everyone some hot dogs. Not wanting her friend to miss the beginning of Elle’s fight, Claire told him it was fine. Ando stepped up and said that he didn't really care if he missed the start of the match, so he could buy the hot dogs while the rest of them went inside. Hiro thanked him and headed into the stadium with Claire and the others.

Much like the parking lot, the stadium was packed, and the crowd was abuzz with chatter. Luckily the fight had yet to begin, and the gang was able to get to their seats without too much of a hassle. Once they had sat down, Claire waited eagerly for the show to start--and waited, and waited, and waited.

As time crept on, Claire grew impatient. “What time is it?” she asked her friend Becky, the only one among them who was wearing a watch.

“It's… 7:52,” Becky reported, frowning as she looked at the time.

“Huh?” Claire tilted her head, drumming her fingers impatiently on the arms of her seat. “But the match was supposed to start at 7:45! What's taking them so long?”

In fact, she wasn't the only one to have noticed this. As time ticked by, the excited murmurs of the crowd turned to those of confusion and frustration. “Where are they?” somebody demanded as it was creeping up on 8:00.

Hiro, who was in the seat next to Claire, kept looking around the stadium anxiously. At first she figured he was wondering the same thing as everybody else there--why the fight hadn't started yet--until he turned to her and spoke, fear edging the corners of his voice.

“Ando isn't back yet.”

Just then, the announcer finally came onstage, looking frazzled. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the delay,” he said. “Without further ado, here are your fighters for this evening! In the blue corner, the Electric Soldier!”

Elle stepped out into the ring, a spotlight illuminating her as she walked. She looked stunning in her white crop top and pale blue-and-yellow striped skirt, which was so ludicrously short that Claire could catch a glimpse of what lay beneath as Elle confidently strutted into her corner of the ring. Her hair was all done up fancy, held in place by hair ornaments in the shape of lightning bolts. She was met with thunderous applause--the crowd loved Elle, that was for sure. And why wouldn't they? Elle was amazing.

Then a spotlight came on in the opposite side of the ring. Elle’s opponent had a much less confident stride, and was met with a much more mixed reception. For a moment, he looked like any other second-tier fighter in his black lace-up boots, ripped jeans, and black leather jacket with red lightning bolt decals on it. It was only when he stumbled into the ring and looked up at the crowd with the terrified expression of a person who wasn't supposed to be there that Claire realized.

“...And in the red corner,” the announcer boomed, “Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for the Crimson Arc!”

* * *

The crowd roared as Ando took his place in the ring. Stunned, Hiro gazed down at his friend, unable to tear his eyes away. What was Ando doing there?  _ Wait _ , he realized,  _ this is probably just the alternate version of Ando. _ That would have made sense--if Hiro had been involved in these fights in this universe, it made sense that Ando would have been too. No doubt that was who the crowd thought he was, as well as the announcer and probably Elle too. But when Hiro locked eyes with the man in the ring and saw the look of sheer terror in his eyes, he knew in an instant that that wasn’t the case. This was  _ his _ Ando about to face off against Elle. And from what Hiro had seen of Elle so far, she wasn't the type to hold back.

Hiro was too deep in his own panicked thoughts to hear the announcer start the match. He hardly possessed the tools to process what was happening as Elle launched a lightning bolt at Ando, who blocked it with his own lightning just in time.  _ An electro-showdown indeed! _ He shuddered as the two danced around the ring, flinging lightning at each other. From what he could tell, the two were just about evenly matched--Elle must have been given the power-dulling drugs as well, because her lightning was looking a lot less deadly than it could have been.

Elle backed Ando into a corner and raised her hand, sending a bolt at him. He ducked, shoving her aside and running to the other side of the ring. He looked at the crowd; Hiro felt a knot form in his gut as their eyes momentarily met. Ando looked so scared, and who could blame him? He wasn't cut out for this kind of combat. Hiro had to do something! But what could he do? Without being able to freeze time, his options were limited.

As the fight continued, it became increasingly clear who the victor would be. Ando was doing his best, but he was untrained and unwilling to do what it took to win. Elle, meanwhile, held nothing back. Her attacks were relentless, and a couple of them found their mark. Moaning in pain as Elle zapped him, Ando fell back against the edge of the ring. It was all Hiro could do to restrain himself from running down there and helping him. He didn't want to cause a scene. He just wished there was something he could do. He couldn't just sit there and let this happen!

As he watched, hanging on the edge of his seat, Ando managed to get a hit in on Elle. She was knocked back and lay still for a moment. Ando walked over to her and held his hand out, charging up an attack powerful enough to finish the fight. However, as he was about to fire, he hesitated. Next to Hiro, Claire was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest and her hand clamped over her mouth in horror. Just then, Elle grabbed Ando by the ankles and sent a powerful electric charge coursing through his body. Screaming, Ando dropped to the ground as Elle got up and stood over him, blue lightning crackling at her fingertips. He scrambled to get up and run away, but he was too slow. As Elle fired her attack, Hiro knew that his friend was out of luck. He wouldn't be able to get out of the way in time.

In that instant, as a searing bolt of blue electricity bore down on Ando, Hiro found himself with only one available option. What else could he do? He had to save Ando. And so Hiro screwed up his face and did the only thing he could to save his friend.

* * *

Oh, no. This couldn't really be about to happen, could it? Claire wanted Elle to win, of course she did, but… it was Ando! This was their friend out there in the ring--surely Elle wouldn't really kill him, would she? And yet, as Claire watched her girlfriend fire her attack, she knew in an instant that Elle had no qualms whatsoever about killing the supercharger. Claire wanted to barf. She'd always known deep down that Elle didn't have the best morals, but this… this didn't feel right. They'd stayed under the same roof--did that not mean anything to Elle?

Oh, god… what would Hiro think? He'd be devastated. He'd be furious, and rightly so. He'd never want to speak with Claire again. He'd be--

Wait, where was he?

“Hiro?” As Claire glanced at the now-empty seat next to her where Hiro had been a moment before, a horrible realization fell over her. “Hiro!”

* * *

Elle smirked as she fired what she could tell would be her final shot. Her opponent was already exhausted from taking just a couple of hits. God, he was pathetic. Was this really the challenge that Elle’s agent had hyped up for weeks on end? It was a breeze. This guy didn't even want to fight her.

Then again, she reflected as Ando stumbled over himself in a futile attempt to get away, this wasn't the version of him she was supposed to be fighting. All these idiots in the crowd, Claire included, no doubt believed that this was the version of Ando who was well-versed in the ways of the ring. But the person she was fighting now was not that man. For this version of Ando, it was his first match.

And it was going to be his last.

At least, that was what Elle thought until suddenly, appearing out of the blue directly in the path of her attack--

“Hiro?!”

_ Huh, _ she thought as her blast hit Hiro head-on.  _ That's interesting. _


	10. Chapter 10

“Hiro!” Ando cried in disbelief--and relief--as his friend teleported into the ring seconds before the electricity blast would have hit him.

Everything had happened so fast. When he had been in line for the hot dog vendor, the Osakan man he and Hiro had seen at the Tokyo Stadium the week before had run up to him and yanked him away. “What’re ya doin’, kid?” he'd demanded. “Yer match is about to start!” Discombobulated, Ando had gone along with it as the Osakan had rushed him into the backstage area of the stadium and shoved a uniform into his hands. Immediately upon entering the ring, he'd realized that he was in way over his head. Now, he hurt all over to the point where it was hard to stand, and his skin was badly singed in a few places. He knew that if Elle’s attack hit him, it would be game over for him. Good thing Hiro was here to save him.

That was the last thought that went through his mind before the lightning connected with Hiro.

The lightning hit Hiro square in the chest, sending a shower of sparks up around him as electricity coursed through his body. Time seemed to stop in that moment, but it hadn't actually stopped. Hiro hadn't done what Ando had hoped and frozen time to move him out of the way of the blast, or even teleported them both safely out of the ring in time. Instead, he had taken the full force of the bolt in Ando’s place.

_ Dammit, Hiro, why would you do that?! _ Ando wanted to shout as Hiro was propelled backwards by the blast, but the words died in his throat. Hiro flew back, hitting the edge of the ring and slumping over, blue sparks crackling around him. Across the ring, Elle stood, staring. Her arm was still outstretched in the position she used to fire lightning bolts.

“Well, that wasn't supposed to happen,” she muttered, mouth quirking into a frown.

A deathly hush fell over the crowd as Hiro lolled to one side and flopped over, going limp. At this, Ando snapped out of his trance and ran to Hiro's side.  _ Oh, god, please let him be okay. _ The front of Hiro's shirt had been burned clean through, and as Ando propped him up, he was horrified to see that his friend's chest bore a sickening black burn which spread from his collarbone to his sternum. His half-closed eyes were glazed over, and his singed hair hung limply around his ashen face. His glasses were cracked and falling off his face; feeling a lump rise in his throat, Ando adjusted them so they were back in proper position.

“Hiro?” his voice came out as a hushed, desperate whisper. “Hiro, wake up. Please wake up.”

He jostled his friend's shoulders. Hiro didn't respond. His burnt and blackened chest was still; there was no rise and fall to signal his breathing. Was he even breathing?  _ He has to be. _ Placing his hand on Hiro's wrist, Ando choked back a sob at the lack of a pulse.  _ No.  _ This couldn't be real. Ando clutched Hiro's motionless form and squeezed him tightly to his chest.

“Please wake up,” he murmured into Hiro's shoulder. “Please, Hiro, I can't lose you. I… I…”

Even as he spoke the words, he knew the man they were directed at couldn't hear him. Hiro wasn't going to wake up. He was gone.

Tears streaming down his face, Ando stood and faced Elle, cradling Hiro's body in his arms. She glared back at him as alarmed murmurs sprang up amongst the crowd. “I'm sorry,” she said. She didn't look sorry. Why would she be sorry? On a technicality, she'd probably won. Hiro's sacrifice would probably be recorded as interference, and the match would be ended. Everybody would get to go home. Everybody except for Hiro.

“You…” Ando snarled, facing Elle. Red lightning began to crackle at his fingertips. As he stared into her eyes, he didn't see a single glint of sympathy. Something snapped inside of Ando at that, and his lightning flared up around him, sending bright red bolts into the air. “YOU KILLED HIRO!”

“Well, geez, what's your problem?” Elle taunted. “I said I was sorry, didn't I?”

Blind rage turned Ando's vision as red as his lightning as he fired a bolt at Elle. In an instant, the whole ring--the whole stadium--was filled up with bright, electric crimson. Over the blood roaring in his ears, he barely heard Elle shriek as he blasted her, unrelentless; unthinking. All he could think of was making her pay for what she had done to his friend. He was so sick of this stadium, of these battles, of this whole stupid alternate reality!

A shrill whistle cut through Ando's cloud of red-tinted rage. His injuries caught up with him and he doubled over, panting hard. Lightning still danced around him, and when he wiped tears from his eyes to clear his vision he saw flames springing up around the ring. In the centre of the ring, sizzling and sprawled out in an unnatural position, was Elle’s charred corpse. A loud, choking sob rang out from the crowd--Claire. Ando felt a pang of remorse at his actions. He'd never be able to look her in the eyes again.

“This match is over,” the announcer proclaimed. “And the winner is... The Crimson Arc!”

He said it like there was any other possibility. Like the crowd had been under the impression that Elle just might get up and keep fighting. Numb, Ando let the announcer pull him to his feet and raise his arm up to signal his victory. The crowd cheered and Ando couldn't have cared less. He was still in shock. Surely Hiro couldn't really be gone. It wasn't fair. What kind of world--?

Well, that was a stupid question. Obviously the answer was: this world.

* * *

Claire's head spun as she stared at the gruesome scene below. It was too horrible for her to comprehend. Hiro was… she gulped. He was dead. Elle had killed him, and she hadn't even regretted it. And now Elle was dead too.  _ No _ . How could this be?

In the ring, Ando shuffled off, escorted by the announcer. As people began to stand up and head toward the stadium exit, chattering excitedly amongst themselves, Claire pushed her way through the crowd and ran down to the ring. Her feet carried her to where Ando was being led offstage. Shoving the announcer aside, she grabbed him by the singed collar of his jacket and dragged him into a dark hallway that led backstage, and slammed him up against a wall.

“How could you?” she demanded, bitter tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Elle was my girlfriend! I loved her!”

“Claire, I'm sorry,” Ando mumbled, his vacant gaze not meeting her eyes. “I… I lost control of myself.”

For a moment Claire felt sorry for him. He looked so miserable. Then she reminded herself that Elle was dead because of him. This man deserved no sympathy--as little as Elle herself had shown for what she had done. Or did he? Claire had loved Elle, but did she truly want to be like her?

“You killed my girlfriend,” she hissed, but she took a step away and let go of Ando.

“She would have killed me,” he said. His gaze flitted to the ring, where the announcer was dragging the bodies away with as much callous casualness as they always did when a match was over. “Sh… she killed Hiro.”

As he said those words, Claire's anger evaporated. How could she blame Ando any more than she could blame anyone else? She probably shouldn't have blamed Niki either for what had happened to Meredith and Flint. In this society, everyone and no-one was to blame. It was just how things went in the ring.

Ando hung his head, covering his face with his hands. Slumping down and placing his head between his knees, he rocked slightly back and forth, crying. Unsure of how to comfort him--or if it was even her place to do so--Claire hung back with nothing to offer him but solidarity. She knew her friends would probably be getting worried about her, but nobody had come to look for her yet, so maybe they didn't really care that much anyway. Maybe nobody really cared about her. This world never had been too kind to her. Now it had taken away the last person who Claire knew for sure really loved her.

Putting her thoughts to words, Ando spoke up, his voice hoarse. “I hate this universe.”

“Me too,” Claire agreed.

“N-no, I mean…” Ando trailed off, looking guilty. “Claire, there's something you need to know about Hiro and I. Something we should have told you weeks ago.”

Claire blinked, grief momentarily forgotten. “What are you talking about?”

“Hiro and I aren't from here,” he said. “We came from another universe.”

“You're what?” Claire asked, stunned. “You mean to tell me all this time you guys were from some kind of parallel universe?”

“Well, not all this time,” Ando amended. “There were versions of us from this world--those were the ones you knew. I don't think those versions of us are still around.”

Claire was distressed by this news. Why had they kept this from her? And how was Ando supposed to get home now that Hiro was gone? She assumed that them ending up in her world had been Hiro's doing, but without him… A thought crossed her mind--maybe Ando could give up on going home and just stay with her. She needed somebody, anybody, to be there for her. However, she knew that wouldn't be right. He deserved to get home. He also deserved to get his friend back, but that wasn't going to happen. With a pang of sympathy, she knelt beside Ando and gave him an awkward pat on the back.

“I'm sorry about Hiro,” she said. “He was a good man. At least, the version of him I knew was.”

“My Hiro was good too,” Ando said. A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “He was the best person I ever knew.”

When people died in the ring, they were buried in mass graves located outside of the stadium. Sometimes little memorials were set up for more popular fighters, but even that was done without much ceremony or fanfare. People didn't like to acknowledge that the people who fought and died inside those stadiums were real people with friends and families. People who would miss them when they were gone. It was so much easier to pretend like it was just nameless faces with cool powers battling it out without consequence.

“I'm so sorry about Hiro,” Claire said again, as if it would make any difference. As if her sympathetic words could bring back the dead. If that were the case, her mother, uncle, and girlfriend would still be around. “I'm just so sorry.”


	11. Chapter 11

At 8:57 pm, Linderman received a phone call. He recognized the number as one of his agents: the announcer from the New York Battle Stadium, who detailed the unexpected event which had occurred in the ring that night.

“It was insane,” the announcer said. “One second the Crimson Arc was done for, and then--boom! His buddy appears and takes the hit for him!”

“His ‘buddy’?” Linderman echoed, raising his eyebrows. “Surely you aren't referring to the Time Master.” He cringed as he spoke the childish stage name of the late fighter. “That fellow died nearly a month ago--mangled beyond repair. I would know; I tried to bring him back when the requests came pouring in.”

“It was him,” the announcer insisted. “He sacrificed his life for his friend, who then proceeded to go berserk and totally wreck his opponent’s shop!”

“Hmm… I see.” Linderman stroked his chin, fascinated by the impossible recount. “How badly damaged was the body?”

“Time Master or the Electric Soldier?”

“Mr. Nakamura,” Linderman clarified. “I could care less for Ms. Bishop, and I get the feeling the audiences share my sentiment.”

He had yet to receive a call regarding Elle’s fate, but the people loved Hiro. He may have been controversial when he had first started out, but as it turned out, audiences appreciated a fighter who didn't kill his opponents. It was really a shame about how good a job that samurai fellow had done of carving him up. Linderman’s power had been useless. But if what the announcer said was true, he just might have a second chance to earn some devoted fans’ money.

“Well, it's good you don't want the girl, because she looks beyond repair to me,” the announcer said. “But apart from a nasty burn on his chest, our boy Hiro looks good to go.”

Linderman smiled. This would no doubt be extremely lucrative.

“Bring the body to me,” he instructed. “Let's give everybody's favourite ‘time master’ a second chance at life, shall we?”

* * *

When Hiro and Ando had been in elementary school, Hiro had gotten bullied a lot. He was such a stereotypical nerd that it was almost inevitable, but that didn't make it any less awful for Ando to see his friend with bloody noses and black eyes all the time. He wished he could hunt those bullies down and give them what for, but he wasn’t much better equipped for physical combat than Hiro himself.

It probably didn't help that Hiro, along with his nerdy interests, acted kind of odd. He didn't always get social cues, he had trouble making eye contact, and he liked to do things like flap his hands and rock back and forth in the middle of class. Kaito managed to train most of this behaviour out of him as time went on. Hiro stopped stimming, he made eye contact, and he kept quiet when he got the urge to infodump. It made him a more convenient child, certainly, but a less happy one. Even though he didn't totally understand what set his friend apart from other kids, and despite his respect for Kaito, there were times when Ando absolutely despised the adults around him for the way they would talk about Hiro.

“Hey, Hiro, you know you can act however you want, right?” Ando asked him once as they sat up in Hiro's bedroom, playing video games. “You don’t have to be normal for me to like you.”

Hiro chewed his lip in concentration as he mashed the buttons on his game controller. He didn't respond to Ando for some time--maybe he hadn't even heard him. After he beat the level he was on, he set the controller down and turned to face Ando with a grin.

“I did it,” he said. “Didja see?”

“Good job,” Ando told him. “It took me forever to beat that level.”

That was a lie, but he figured it was better to praise his friend's skills than criticize them, even if it was undeserved. Hiro got enough flack from basically everybody in his life; he deserved some compliments. Honestly, Ando had no idea how Hiro managed to keep such a positive attitude.

Hiro pushed up his glasses, giving Ando a side-eye. “I know you're lying,” he said.

“Huh?” Ando asked. Usually Hiro wasn't so good at telling when people were lying, or even being sarcastic. Was he really that easy to read? “How can you tell?”

“I saw you beat the level in five minutes when I was at your house last weekend,” Hiro reminded him. Then he smiled and gave Ando a pat on the arm. “But thanks for trying to make me feel good.”

In middle school, around the time that Hiro's mom grew ill, Kaito put Hiro in behaviour therapy. When adults talked about Hiro now, they threw around terms like “high-functioning” and “mental age”. Ando didn't know what they were talking about half the time, but he hated it.  _ Hiro is just a person, _ he wanted to yell.  _ He's no less human than all of you! _ Hiro didn't seem too fond of the labels either, but when he voiced his complaints he got sent to his room.

Hiro was a special kid, everyone said. Some said it with pity, and others in gentle, sympathetic tones to hide the true meaning of their words. Hiro believed he was special as well, but not in the way the adults told him. He was the save-the-world kind of special. Up until the fall of 2006, Ando never really believed his friend's claims of having some grand destiny, but there were some days when he really wanted to. He wanted to believe that Hiro had a bright future ahead of him. God knew he deserved it.

He still should have had some of that future ahead of him. It wasn't fair for him to be gone. It just wasn't right at all.

* * *

Hiro was not supposed to wake up.

He knew this as soon as he heard voices at the edge of his consciousness, beckoning him back into the world of the living. Once he opened his eyes to find himself lying on his back staring up at a pristine white ceiling, he was certain. His head was fuzzy at first; he couldn't quite remember the last thing that had happened to him, but somehow, the thought  _ I'm not supposed to be here _ tugged at the back of his mind. Groaning, Hiro raised his hand to rub his temples, trying to recall what had happened. He found that moving his hand felt strange, like his muscles weren't expecting him to use them.

The last thing he remembered was teleporting into the ring.  _ Ando was in danger _ , he recalled. A pang of worry shot through Hiro; had he managed to save his friend, or...?! But no, he had been successful, he remembered with a sigh of relief. He had blocked the attack and--

It had hit him instead. Now Hiro remembered, with a sickening twist in his gut, the searing blue bolt of electricity catching him head-on, burning through his chest and shocking him. He winced at the phantom feeling of electricity coursing through his body, half-blinding him with its brightness. He remembered Ando screaming out in anguish, and then…

Nothing.

Oh, no.  _ I'm dead, _ he thought, the realization settling heavy in his chest--the chest which should have been fried beyond recovery. No heart could keep beating after that. And yet here he was--alive. How was he alive?  _ I shouldn't be here.  _ The thought returned to him, and now he knew why. He wasn't even supposed to be alive, let alone here in this… wait, where was he, anyway?

As Hiro's higher senses returned to him, he slowly sat up and looked around. He was in a small, cramped room, lying on a stainless steel operating table which was shoved up against a wall. All the walls of the room were painted white, and save for the table, it was completely empty--there weren't even any windows. There was nobody currently in the room, but there was a door on the side opposite to the table through which Hiro could hear people talking. Hopping off the operating table, he tiptoed over to the door and pressed his ear up against it, listening in.

“What if it doesn't work?” somebody was asking. Hiro recognized the voice as being the announcer from the New York stadium. “People are going to want their money back, aren't they?”

“That's  _ if _ it doesn't work,” another man said. He sounded vaguely familiar as well, but Hiro couldn't quite place it. He couldn't remember having heard that voice in a long time. “I believe he should be waking up at any moment now.”

Hiro's eyes widened as he realized they were talking about him. Was the person speaking now the one responsible for him being alive?

“As a matter of fact,” the oddly familiar voice continued, “I think I'll go in there and check.”

As the doorknob turned, Hiro squeezed his eyes shut and tried to teleport away. Nothing happened. Alarmed, Hiro glanced around the room for somewhere to hide. Under the operating table, maybe? It was the only spot in the otherwise bare room where he could conceivably hide… however, before Hiro could scramble underneath the table, the door opened and an older man in a sharply pressed suit strolled in.

As soon as he entered the room, Hiro recognized the man. It was the last person he had been expecting to see, and yet somehow it made sense when he thought about it. Standing in the doorframe, staring Hiro down with a satisfied glint in his eye, was none other than Daniel Linderman.

“Ah, Mr. Nakamura,” Linderman said in a shockingly friendly tone. “So nice to see you up and about. Would you care for something to eat?”


	12. Chapter 12

The last time Nathan had come home from a business trip, he had been pleasantly surprised by the state of Claire's mental health. She had handled the deaths of Meredith and Flint quite well; Nathan was proud of his daughter for getting over it so quickly. She was a Petrelli through and through, that one; carrying on with what had to be done without getting hung up on setbacks.

This time, Nathan came home to find Claire huddled up in her room, staring listlessly at Elle’s publicity poster. She refused to speak to him, and when he asked of Elle’s whereabouts, she slammed the door in his face.

It wasn't until later that day, when he read the newspaper, that he learned of the reason for his daughter's mood. Once again, he was sorry to learn that Elle had died, but it had been exactly what he had expected to happen. One could never count on too long a career in the ring. What did come as a surprise to him were the circumstances of her defeat. He'd had no idea that Ando was Elle’s opponent--and the news about Hiro, even to someone who had never been too fond of the childish time-traveller, was somewhat disturbing to read. The fact that the match had been allowed to continue after this shocking act of interference made Nathan wonder why stadiums even pretended to have a set list of rules anymore. Apparently just about anything was on the table now.

What made the news story truly strange, however, was a concurrent story from Tokyo. Apparently, a body had been discovered outside an office building, presumably having fallen to his death. The body had been identified as belonging to Ando Masahashi. Unfortunate, but it wouldn't have been too odd if not for the fact that the body had been found two days before Ando’s fight at the New York stadium, during which he had been very much alive. Speculation ran rampant as to the truth behind these seemingly impossible events; the leading theory was that there was a shapeshifter in their midst. Nathan wasn't sure whether to buy into that, but either way, Claire's mental wellbeing came first. He decided it would be best for her to avoid attending any matches for the time being. Besides, with Peter's whereabouts still unknown, she didn't have much of anybody left to cheer for.

In hopes of lifting his daughter's spirits, Nathan took Claire out for ice cream over the weekend. He tried to make some conversation with her, but she remained extremely unresponsive, giving mostly one-word answers.

“So, how are your friends?”

“Fine.”

“Are you doing well in college?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you like to talk to me about anything? About Elle? About your mother?”

“...No.”

Sighing, Nathan put down his spoon and pushed his bowl of ice cream aside. He didn't care much for sweet foods anyway; he knew the kind of damage they did to his teeth. So many sugary things were really just rot waiting to happen.

“Claire, I know you're in a bad place right now,” he said. “Feel free to tell me about what's bothering you.”

Claire said nothing, staring down at her bowl as she scraped her spoon around the edges. Her ice cream still went mostly untouched; it was beginning to melt. As she pushed her spoon around, she blinked, and a tear rolled down her cheek and landed in the bowl.

“I'm fine,” she insisted in a quiet voice that told Nathan she was definitely not fine. “Look, just leave me alone, okay?”

Nathan was reluctant to comply, but he could tell that it was no use trying to get her to open up to him. He could never connect with his daughter, no matter how hard he tried, because he didn't know how to relate to her. Her problems couldn't be hand-waved with an empowering speech and a confident smile, the way he dealt with things in his career. He couldn't just lie through his teeth and say that everything was going to turn out fine. Claire would see through him in an instant.

It was a shame that Nathan was such a politician by nature. He wished he had learned how to reassure people without lying to them.

* * *

A tense silence filled the room as Linderman whisked pancake batter together in a metal bowl. His kitchen was truly extravagant; it was clear that cooking was his passion. Dried herbs hung up here and there, and various cans and jars covered the shelves despite there being a plethora of cupboards to store things in. Next to the frying pan on the stovetop there was a pot sizzling away; whatever was cooking in it smelled delightful. Clearly a lot went on in this kitchen. Somehow, though, the kitchen remained perfectly pristine, as did Linderman’s suit. He wasn't even wearing an apron, so Hiro was pretty impressed by how he managed to avoid spilling even a single drop of batter on himself.

That was about where Hiro's admiration for Linderman ended.

“I suppose you must be wondering why you aren't dead,” Linderman said as he doled some of the batter out into a frying pan. “Don't worry; I'll explain it all in time.”

Hiro squirmed in his seat, staring down at his glass of water. He was sitting at a long table which had two places set. He assumed the other was meant for Linderman, which he was none too thrilled about. The prospect of such a corrupt man sitting down to eat breakfast with him made Hiro's skin crawl. Even just being in the same room as him made Hiro exceedingly uncomfortable. Things may have been different in this universe, but from what he'd seen, everybody's personalities stayed mainly the same. In a case of “nature vs. nurture”, the timeline had diverged to form this reality at a point when it wouldn't have made any difference in how Linderman’s personality had developed. As such, he was still just as bad a person as he had been in Hiro's universe. So why was he being so friendly?

“Here you go,” Linderman said, sliding a freshly cooked pancake onto Hiro's plate. “I'll have more ready for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” Hiro mumbled. Even if Linderman was a villain, it didn't hurt to have good manners. In fact, he was kind of afraid that Linderman might do something to hurt him if he was rude.

Admittedly, the pancakes were pretty good--as Hiro had suspected, Linderman was a great chef.  _ They're not as good as the ones at the Burnt Toast Diner _ , he thought, but even he had to admit that was just his personal bias speaking. When Linderman sat down across from him, Hiro flinched. Even though they were separated by the table, from the way Linderman was looking at him, it felt like he could have snapped his fingers and instantly gotten rid of Hiro if he wanted. Swallowing back his apprehension, Hiro tried to enjoy the pancakes and pretend that a mob leader wasn't sitting at the same table.

This effort was made difficult when Linderman kept trying to talk to him.

“You strike me as the type of man who already knows this, Mr. Nakamura,” he said as Hiro avoided his gaze, “But you're quite special.”

It was indeed something Hiro knew quite well about himself. He'd known all his life that he was meant for something big, and once his powers had manifested, his destiny had finally been realized. However, he got the feeling that Linderman was referring to something other than Hiro's power. Superhuman abilities, particularly in this world, were so well-known that they could hardly be considered all that special. He didn't think Linderman meant it in the nice-way-of-saying-“weird” way, either.

“I happened to catch a live broadcast of a fight of yours from about a month ago,” Linderman went on. “Not only did you die; your body was too badly damaged for me to help you. And I did want to help you, I truly did.”

He stopped to take a sip of water. Squirming under his inquisitive gaze, Hiro silently cursed his alternate self for having been so well-known. He doubted the story he'd told Claire would work on Linderman, especially not if he'd actually seen the fight in question, which Hiro himself still had not. He'd already watched himself die on a couple of occasions, and had been in no hurry to witness it again. Maybe if he had actually sat down and watched a recording of the match, he would have been able to come up with an explanation for still being alive, but he doubted it.

“I was certain it was the last anyone would hear of you,” Linderman said. There was genuine regret in his voice, and it was almost tempting to think that the mobster actually possessed some sort of personal attachment to Hiro. “But then, two days ago, I heard about this.”

He grabbed a newspaper off the kitchen counter and showed it to Hiro. The headline read “ELECTRO-SHOWDOWN BROUGHT TO  _ SHOCKING  _ CONCLUSION!” Next to the article was a blurry photo of Hiro getting zapped with lightning, which Hiro cringed at the sight of. Even in such poor resolution, knowing that he was looking at a picture of his own dead body didn't sit well with him. What made it even worse was that this wasn't a future or alternate version of himself, it was just  _ him. _ That wasn't something most people got a chance to see, and after looking at the photo, Hiro was pretty sure that was a good thing.

“You miraculously return from the dead only to die again,” Linderman said with a bewildered shake of his head. “Bizarre. I couldn't figure it out myself at first, but now I see.”

Hiro stiffened. Had Linderman figured out that he was from another reality?

“You're from the past, aren't you?”

“I am?” Hiro blinked, pleasantly surprised that the mob leader hadn't guessed the truth after all. “I mean, yes, I am! How, er, how did you know?”

Linderman smiled coldly. “It's simple logic, my friend,” he said. “I brought you back so that you can go back to your own time and die in the ring again, this time for good.”

That didn't sound very appealing, but since Linderman was wrong about him being from the past, hearing this came as a huge relief to Hiro. This was a man who had been willing to let New York explode because his colleague had seen it in a vision, so clearly he wasn't one to mess with the space-time continuum. If he thought that Hiro was supposed to go back in time and die, he would want to let that happen, so he'd let Hiro go, right?

“However,” Linderman went on with a devious glint in his eye, “I happen to have a lot of clients who would pay very kindly to see you back in the ring for one last fight. What do you say to one more match before you go?”

“What's stopping me from teleporting away from here right now?” Hiro challenged, finally working up the nerve to return Linderman’s gaze with a glare.

“Oh, you can try,” Linderman chuckled. “Before bringing you back I gave you an injection to block your powers for a little while. It should wear off in…” He checked his watch, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, about a month or so.”

Hiro internally groaned. So that was why nothing had happened when he'd tried to teleport away earlier--another injection. And just when the first one had finally been wearing off, too!

“Why would you suppress my powers?” he asked. “Don't I need them to fight in one of your matches to begin with?”

Finishing up his last bites of pancake, Linderman pushed his plate aside. He sat back in his chair, curling his hands under his chin with a smirk.

“People will pay to see you, Mr. Nakamura, powers or not,” he said. “All you really need to impress the crowds is your charming personality. And, of course, a sword wouldn't hurt.”

* * *

After everything that had just happened, Ando couldn't bring himself to stay in New York any longer. He took a flight back to Tokyo; Claire and Nathan covered the expenses. It was a nice gesture that he would have been able to appreciate more under different circumstances. (It occurred to him that it had been a while since he'd flown in a plane--probably not since his and Hiro's initial voyage to America. He supposed that, if he was ever going to do any more traveling, he would have to get used to plane rides again.)

It was a strange feeling to walk inside his apartment but not have it really be _his_ apartment. At first glance it looked almost the same, with all the furniture in the same position and the same anime posters hung up on his walls (while Hiro and Ando had both always been avid anime fans, their taste in series had been very different, with Hiro preferring stuff like _Neon Genesis Evangelion_ whereas Ando was content to watch whatever harem show was on the air). However, a closer look revealed a few odd differences. On the doorknob on the door to his apartment, Ando, at Hiro's request (read: pestering) had hung up a sign reading “home of ½ of Dial-a-Hero”. In this world, the sign instead read “home of ½ of Team Bladecharger”. Ando initially had no idea what “Team Bladecharger” was supposed to mean, but he eventually guessed that it must have been what he and Hiro had called themselves in the ring when they had fought as a team.

Speaking of Hiro, another startling difference in this version of Ando's apartment was something that it took him a while to pick up on. Since the two were constantly visiting each other, Hiro and Ando were both prepared for each other to drop by at basically any time. Apparently that was not the case in this world. There was one less cushion on the couch and only one chair at his kitchen table. Eventually Ando found an extra cushion stuffed in the trash and learned from someone else in his apartment complex that he had given away a chair a few days ago. All the DVDs of the movies Hiro liked to watch when he came over to Ando's place were shoved away out of sight. Ando had a feeling he knew why his alternate self had gotten rid of any reminders of Hiro's frequent presence in his apartment. After all, Hiro wouldn't be dropping by any more, would he?

Finally, the most obvious difference was that there was a thin layer of dust over everything in the apartment when Ando got there. Clearly nobody had been by in a few days. He wondered what had happened to his alternate self.

Actually, he wondered a lot of things.

Ando wondered if he would have to live out the rest of his life in that apartment which wasn't really his. He wondered what the point of such a life would be. He still had Kimiko, he supposed--if she was alive in this universe. Since she didn't have a power, she was probably safe, but in this messed-up reality, who knew? Besides, even if he managed to track her down, it wouldn't be his Kimiko. In this reality, maybe Hiro had never even gone back in time to get them together. Did Ando even care? He was less surprised than he would have liked to be that he really didn't. In fact, the prospect of a life with Kimiko but without Hiro filled him with an unexpected feeling of dread.

Without Hiro, what was even the point? He had always provided so much of the joy and brightness in Ando’s life. Hiro was… everything to him. A friend, a partner, a colleague. They were two halves of a whole. Just like Hiro had been so different in the bad future where Ando was dead, Ando would never be the same without Hiro. They needed each other.

How was he even going to make a living in this world? He had no idea if his alternate self had still worked at Yamagato, or if he'd just fought in the ring full-time. He decided to find out by going to the Tokyo Stadium and checking if they needed any fighters for an upcoming match. At the very least, it would put more action in his life than working at an office. Without his best friend there to keep him company, he wasn't sure if office life was something he'd be able to stand.

The stadium, which had once seemed so intimidating, now seemed tame compared to the one in New York. No matter what kinds of gruesome battles took place there, it could never be as bad as the place where Hiro had… god, he still couldn't even bring himself to think about it. It was tempting to pretend that Hiro had simply gone away somewhere for a little while and would eventually come back. There wasn't anything happening in the stadium at the moment, but there was a poster outside which read: “Fighters wanted--the stronger your powers, the better.” Listed below were some details about how to go about applying.

While Ando was reading the information on the poster, he heard a startled murmur from behind him. He turned around to see the Osakan man he and Hiro had previously had a run-in with. The Osakan examined Ando curiously for a moment, then pulled him aside into the lobby of the empty stadium.

“If yer looking to get back in the ring, ya can't just wander back into an official stadium,” he said, brow crinkling. He sounded almost exasperated, like Ando was supposed to know this already. “Didn't Linderman tell ya? The general public can't know about--”

“Hold on… Linderman?” Ando said, eyes widening. Yet another dead villain who was still alive in this universe--but why would Linderman be involved in this operation? “What was he supposed to tell me?”

“So he really didn't tell ya, eh?” the Osakan muttered. “Listen, kid, yer supposed to be dead. Ya can't show yer face around the public or else people will find out about what Linderman's been doing!”

_ But what  _ has  _ Linderman been doing? _ Ando wanted to ask. He didn't know much about the mob leader aside from the fact that he'd been rich, corrupt, and in possession of a samurai sword which Hiro had then stolen. And since when was Ando supposed to be dead?

“Nah, ya gotta head down to the underground, kid,” the Osakan went on, grabbing Ando by the wrist. “Here, c’mon, I'll take ya there myself.”

“Hold on,” Ando protested. “There must be some misunderstanding here. I never died!”

The Osakan’s bushy eyebrows knit together. “Whaddaya mean?” he asked. “They found yer body just the other day.”

Suddenly Ando recalled the layer of dust in his alternate self’s apartment. Could his alternate self have recently met his end? The thought brought him a twinge of discomfort. Still, what did that have to do with Linderman? And what was that about an underground ring?

“Well, if ya insist…” the Osakan mumbled, looking confused. “But yer still gonna have to come with me, okay? You were awful sloppy in the ring during yer latest match, kid--ya gotta get some training in.”

He led Ando inside the stadium and took him down a narrow hallway to a door marked “training”. Through the door was a room with gym mats on the floor, full of training equipment, as well as punching bags and a few training dummies like the one Elle had practiced on at the Petrelli residence. Most of the punching bags and dummies were in pretty bad shape, with stuffing spilling out of nearly all of them in at least a couple places, and burn marks covering a couple of the punching bags hanging in the corner. The Osakan sat down on a bench and waved Ando over toward one of the training dummies.

“Here, kid,” he said. “Knock yerself out.”

* * *

Claire was lying on her bed listening to music turned up way too high when Nathan came into her room. She didn't have to worry about wrecking her eardrums, but even if she didn't have her powers, it would be worth it to potentially damage her hearing if the cacophony booming in her ears managed to ignite some kind of emotion in her. Her strategy wasn't working, though. She still felt numb no matter what she did. Her eyes were closed and she couldn't hear her father enter over her music, so she was alerted to his presence only when he reached over and yanked her earbuds out. Indignant, Claire sat up to glare at Nathan. He was standing with his arms crossed at the foot of her bed, staring her down accusingly.

“What?” she snapped. She was in no mood for any kind of father-daughter bonding today, but she got the feeling that that wasn't what Nathan currently had in mind either. He looked mad.

There were a couple of different things he could have found out that would have elicited that kind of reaction. Maybe he had finally pieced together that Claire's “spring break” should have ended a long time ago, and she should have been back at college. She hadn't told him that she had stopped going to college four months ago in some idiotic act of teenage rebellion. It had been Elle’s idea--Claire staying home from school let them spend more time together. At this point, even if she went back, she would be too far behind to catch up. So, yeah, maybe he had found out about that. Or maybe--

“I found something in the laundry hamper this morning,” he said. “Something very… interesting.”

Before he said another word, Claire instantly knew what he was referring to. Tensing up, she scrambled for an explanation.

“Uh, it's just--I was…” she stammered. “You know how I used to be a cheerleader?”

“Of course I know,” Nathan said. “But I don't seem to remember your uniform having fake blood splatter on it. I also don't remember there being a pocket,” he continued, voice raising into a shout, “where you kept a  _ dagger _ !”

Claire flinched. “It was just one match,” she blurted. “I'll never do it again, Dad, I swear!”

“Good,” Nathan said through clenched teeth. With that, he turned around and stormed out of the room, slamming Claire's door shut behind him.

Upon her father leaving, Claire shuddered. She hadn't just been trying to get him off her back; she genuinely did not want to get back in the ring ever again. Hell, after what happened at Elle’s match, she wasn't sure if she could ever stand to set foot in a stadium again. She supposed it would be smart of her to get rid of the uniform, in that case. She would never need it again.

The dagger, though, maybe she could keep. You never knew when a dagger might come in handy.


	13. Chapter 13

The underground ring was a far cry from the ones in the official stadiums. Rather than being roped off from the audience, the ring was elevated high above the ground on a platform. The seats were arranged differently as well, with some being closer to the platform but on the ground where people seated there wouldn't be able to get a good look at the fight, while other seats were further back and at a much higher elevation, like a balcony section. In total, there were far fewer seats than at either the New York or the Tokyo Stadium, but everybody there looked extremely affluent. There was a steady buzz of anticipation amidst the crowd as Hiro peeked through the backstage curtain past the platform.

At his side, the woman who had introduced herself as Hiro's new agent tapped him on the shoulder. “Your fight begins in five minutes,” she said, drumming her pen against her clipboard impatiently. “Better hurry up and get your uniform on.”

It was two weeks after the fateful match at the New York Stadium, and Hiro was still without his powers in a situation he would very much rather not have been in. In five minutes, he would be forced to participate in his first fight, armed only with his wits and a rusty old sword that he hadn't had the time to get a good feel for. Rather than a katana, his agent had given him a Chinese dao, which was weighted quite differently. In addition, he still had no idea who exactly he was meant to be fighting, though his agent assured him that his opponent wouldn't be too much of a challenge. But even if it would be an easy fight, Hiro didn't want to kill anyone!

Hiro's uniform, as it stood, was a long black trenchcoat not dissimilar to the outfit he'd worn in the future. His hair had been tied back in a small ponytail despite it being too short to pull the look off very well. As he slipped into the pair of high-heeled combat boots his agent had picked out for him, an announcer yelled his stage name--the Time Master. Ironic that he would be given such a title when he was currently powerless. Drawing in a deep breath and swallowing his apprehension, Hiro pushed the curtain aside and climbed up the steps to the platform until he stood in the ring. There, he waved awkwardly at the crowd, who offered no more than a smattering of polite applause. He guessed that he was less popular in America than in his own country.

“And in the red corner,” the announcer said, “making her triumphant return after months of absence, it's the Cat-Burglar Blur!”

This announcement was met with far more boisterous cheering. As Hiro's opponent reached the top of the platform, her stride was confident. As the applause died down, she narrowed her eyes and flipped off the crowd. Hiro expected a shocked reaction from them, but the audience seemed to love her rudeness. She was dressed in a sleek, aerodynamic tracksuit, and her short platinum-blonde hair was decorated with a pale pink bow. Hiro felt a pang of nostalgia at the sight of her bold, piercing gaze.  _ It's been a while, nemesis. _

“Well, well, if it isn't Pikachu,” Daphne said, her eyes lighting up. “Ready to fight to the death again?”

“I don't think I am," Hiro admitted. For a moment he wondered what she meant by “again” until he remembered that it was a different universe. “A-are you?”

“Hey, it's no big deal,” she said, her playful look unwavering even as she tightened her grip on the knife she held in her right hand. “Whoever loses, Linderman will probably just bring us back again.”

With that, she ran at him. Hiro didn't even have time to blink before her knife was buried in his leg. Stumbling back, he let out a yelp as a sharp pain shot through him. In a somewhat clunky motion, he raised his sword and gave it a halfhearted swing. Daphne licked her lips in concentration as she briskly sidestepped his attack and then darted back to yank the knife out of his leg; he winced at the second burst of pain caused by the blade's removal. She raised it and prepared to strike Hiro again, but this time he was fast enough to block the attack with his sword. He noticed that Daphne’s movements, while still much too fast to easily keep up with, could only be described as sluggish compared to what he'd come to expect from the speedster. Was she going easy on him, or had she simply been given the same power-dulling drugs as he had?

As they stood in the centre of the ring, pushing at each other with their respective weapons, Hiro got the sudden urge to make small talk. Although their relationship began as an antagonistic one, he had genuinely come to view Daphne as a friend, and had been deeply saddened when he heard of her tragic death. In this universe, had their dynamic been the same? Or had they remained enemies? If she was in the underground ring, she must have died in this world as well, but perhaps under different circumstances. He wanted to ask her about all of this, but it would be impossible to do so without revealing he was from another reality, which was information he was more than a little reluctant to trust his rival with.

As Hiro was wondering about this, Daphne managed to get the upper hand. Pushing him back until he was at the outer edge of the ring, she pulled away only when his feet brushed against the edge of the platform. Heart racing, Hiro windmilled his arms as he threatened to tip over the edge. Just as he was about to fall, Daphne jabbed her knife into his shoulder. The action, though painful, prevented Hiro from falling; he blinked gratefully at her even as she grabbed him by the collar and flung him to the ground. Clutching his shoulder, Hiro scrambled to his feet and slashed his sword at her, but she took off in a flash to the other side of the ring.

As he took a moment to regain his breath, Daphne circled back for him and pushed him to the ground before he had a chance to react. Thinking fast, he stuck his leg out to trip her, and she fell on top of him. Then, pinning him down, she held her knife up as though to bring it down on him. However, she hesitated for just a moment, giving Hiro the chance to get a move in. Hitting her chest with the flat edge of his blade, he pushed her away and she fell back, eyes narrowing. She was back on her feet in an instant, naturally, eyes gleaming with fighting spirit. With a new burst of confidence, Hiro rolled forward and used the dull part of his sword to strike her in the shins. He winced at the cracking sound that came from the impact. He hadn’t meant to hit her hard enough to produce that kind of sound, but controlling his new sword was just as hard as he’d imagined.

Daphne’s legs buckled and she toppled over with a shriek, letting her knife fall out of her hand. She made no move to resist as Hiro walked up and stood over her, pointing his sword at her neck.

“Well, Pikachu, are you going to finish me off?” she asked in a tone of voice that told Hiro she knew he wouldn't. And she was right; alternate universe or not, he wasn't going to kill her. Letting her go probably went against regulations, but it was at least worth a shot.

Hiro lowered his blade and turned to face the crowd. “This battle is over!” he proclaimed.

Disapproving murmurs sprang up amongst the crowd. Despite how confident he'd tried to sound, Hiro shrank under their gazes. Who was he to defy all these people's expectations? There could only have been fifty people at most in the stadium, but every single one of them commanded respect. If they wanted bloodshed, Hiro got the feeling they'd find a way to make sure that was what they got.

“What are you doing?” somebody jeered. “Kill her!”

More voices joined in agreement. Gulping, Hiro looked Daphne in the eyes in a silent apology. He kept expecting her to catch him off guard and regain the upper hand, but she seemed content to let him win. He didn't want to harm her, but at that moment, it didn't look like he had any choice.

However, to his surprise and relief, his agent stepped up to where the announcer stood at the base of the platform. Grabbing the megaphone out of his hands, she pushed the announcer aside and addressed the crowd.

“Well, you heard him,” she said. “Battle’s over, folks! That's all for tonight!”

She was met with a sea of protest, but Hiro's agent didn't flinch as she stared at the crowd. Incredulous, Hiro dropped his sword and helped Daphne to her feet. He let her lean on him as they left the stage, and although she initially resisted his effort to help, she accepted it without protest once they got to the stairs.

“I'm sorry for hitting you,” Hiro whispered as they hurried down the steps off the platform while the crowd continued to boo. “Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Nah, I'd say we're about even after I stabbed you and all,” Daphne said. She winced with every step she took, and despite her apparent nonchalance, Hiro could tell he had done a lot more damage than he'd intended in striking her legs. Putting on a smile, she clapped him on the back. “I've gotta say, your fighting has really gone downhill.”

“It has not,” Hiro protested, indignant. “I was able to beat you, wasn't I?”

Daphne stuck her tongue out at him. “Shut up,” she muttered. “I wasn't at my normal level of ability, okay?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, my agent didn't want me to run away, so I got this stupid injection that dulls my powers,” she said, voice dripping with bitterness. As she said this, she stumbled on a step; Hiro caught her and she mumbled a reluctant “thanks” under her breath. “See that? It's not as bad as that damn second eclipse from a few years back, but it still sucks! I'm basically helpless.”

So she had been given one of those injections, just as he suspected. “The same thing happened to me,” Hiro told her as they reached the bottom of the stairs and walked off backstage. “I can't even use my powers at all for the time being. If I could,” he added, “I would get us both out of here.”

“Wouldn't it be nice.” Wincing, Daphne sat down on the bench next to where Hiro had tossed his regular clothes; she rubbed her hands up and down the length of her legs with a grimace. He sat next to her after she gave him a raised-eyebrow glance that looked like an invitation. “If you could get out of here, where would you go?”

_ Back to my own reality,  _ Hiro thought. Being in this dark, musty room in a secret underground fighting facility, he got a pang of homesickness just thinking about going back to the world he belonged in. Sadly, at this point he wasn't sure that it was ever going to happen. For now, his best bet was to find Ando. It wouldn't solve all his problems, but being with his friend would have made Hiro feel infinitely better.

“I would want to track down my friend,” he told Daphne. “I'm worried about him. How about you?” he added. “If you could be anywhere right now, where would you go?”

She chewed her lip, seeming to mull it over for a bit. Hiro thought he saw her mouth move in the shape of a familiar name, but if she spoke the name aloud, it was too quiet for him to hear. Cheeks colouring, she shrugged and shook her head.

“I don’t really care,” she said. “Anywhere but here is fine by me.”

* * *

After his first training session with the Osakan, Ando initially hadn't planned to ever return to the stadium. He never wanted to participate in another match as long as he lived. However, the Osakan’s unexpected kindness drew Ando back to the stadium time and time again. With Hiro gone, Ando would take more or less any companionship he could get, and if it came from a gruff but kind elderly man from Osaka, so be it. Apparently the Osakan--whose name Ando had eventually learned was Takeda--had been alternate-Ando’s agent for a couple of years. Ando felt kind of guilty about letting Takeda believe that he was the version of himself from this world, but sometimes he got the feeling that Takeda already knew.

There was another reason for Ando to keep hanging around the stadium, too. From what Takeda had said about Linderman and an underground ring, he gathered that there was some secret operation going on that Takeda knew about involving dead fighters being brought back to life. Ando didn't want to get his hopes up too much, but he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, Hiro was among those fighters who Linderman had resurrected. And if there was even the slightest chance of seeing Hiro alive again, Ando would do anything to make it happen.

Unfortunately, that determination led to Ando agreeing to participate in matches at the stadium. The thought of having to fight people to the death put a bad taste in his mouth, but how could he say no? Now, a few days before an upcoming fight, Takeda was helping him pick out a new outfit for the ring after his old one had gotten damaged in his match with Elle.

“Which do ya prefer, kid, vest or jacket?” the Osakan asked in a gruff voice as he drew a rusted old key out of his pocket and unlocked a door labeled “costumes”.

“Uh, jacket?” Ando said. “Yeah, jacket is good.”

Takeda nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, I figured,” he said. “C'mon, kid, let's get ya fitted.”

He opened the door and waved his hand in an  _ after you _ gesture. Inside the room were rows and rows of clothing racks stocked with outfits of all shapes, sizes, and colours. They didn't seem to be organized in any particular way--bright pink dresses hung right next to brown leather pants and flawlessly pressed tuxedos. As Ando hung back nervously in the doorframe, Takeda started rifling through the various outfits. Eventually, he held up a gaudy purple jean jacket with spiked shoulder pads and adorned with a variety of flashy pins.

Ando grimaced. “I'm not going to wear that,” he said. “I'd rather wear that ridiculous spandex thing Hiro got me when he--when I…”

He trailed off, being hit with a fresh wave of grief as he remembered his friend's antics. Takeda blinked at him sympathetically as he struggled to swallow the lump rising in his throat. It did nothing to make him feel better.  _ I don't want your pity, _ he thought.  _ I just want Hiro back. _

“Ya miss yer friend a lot, don't ya?”

“...Yeah,” Ando sighed. Thinking back to what Takeda had said about the underground ring, he asked, “You don’t suppose he could still be out there, do you?”

Takeda pursed his lips and shook his head sadly. “Sorry, kid,” he muttered. “Some folks’ bodies just get too roughed up for Linderman’s power to work on ‘em. Yer friend was one of those cases.”

His words were gentle, but they still delivered a crushing blow. Any last spark of hope Ando had held for ever seeing Hiro again vanished, rubbed away like an incorrect answer on a whiteboard. His friend was gone for good, with no chance of ever coming back. He wanted to cry, but the shame of breaking down in tears in front of his agent held him back. He didn't want to look like an emotional idiot.

“I--” Ando choked out, grabbing a piece of clothing off the rack without even checking to see what it was. “I think I'll go try this on now.”

* * *

Thinking about it, it should have been obvious that Linderman hadn’t actually planned to let Hiro leave after just one match. After his match against Daphne, his agent had taken him down a complex series of halls, all of which were barren save for the occasional unmarked door, to a compound with other fighters who were in the same boat. There was a training room there too with an impressive amount of equipment, even though much of it was heavily damaged. The compound and the training room were the only two places Hiro was allowed to go, although wandering around the empty halls was permitted as long as he was accompanied by his agent.

The next three and a half weeks passed excruciatingly slowly. Hiro didn't have another match scheduled until the end of the month, and all he could really do to pass the time until then was train and try to talk to his fellow fighters, most of whom weren’t too friendly. Aside from Daphne, there weren't any familiar faces at the compound, which he wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved about. It would have been nice to have friends to keep him company, but it also would have meant the possibility that he'd be forced to fight one of them in the future. His agent, whose surname he eventually learned from another fighter was Johnson, warned him that neither of them would be allowed to get away with the stunt Hiro had pulled during his match with Daphne again.

Hiro hoped that Ando was doing okay. He had no idea where his friend was, or what he may have been doing. It drove him crazy not to be able to be there for him. As strange as it may have been, he was also worried about the alternate version of Claire. Without the loving adoptive family she had in his world, she didn't seem to have much of a support network outside of Nathan--who from what Hiro had seen was rather distant--and Elle, who was the last person he would have wanted to provide emotional support. Still, as long as Claire still had Elle around, he hoped she was alright. Even if Hiro didn't like Elle very much, Claire obviously cared deeply for her, so with any luck Elle was providing her with all the love and support she needed.

At least Claire wasn't participating in any more matches. Hiro knew this because there was a TV set in the compound that aired footage of recent matches from official stadiums 24/7. She had yet to appear in any of them, and oddly enough, neither had Elle. Perhaps Elle had stopped entering matches so she could spend more time with Claire. That was what Hiro hoped, anyway--Claire certainly could have used the extra positive attention.

His next match wasn't set to occur until the end of the month, and his agent once again wouldn't give him any details about it. More than anything, in the time between his first match and his upcoming one, he was just bored. Daphne wasn’t always the best conversational partner, as she tended to get cagey and run out of him, and nobody else there cared to talk with Hiro at all. A few days before the match was scheduled, Hiro's powers gradually started returning. He found that if he tried hard enough he could slow time down, but not stop it completely. He had no idea if the drugs would have worn off completely by the time of his match. If so, he wouldn't hesitate to teleport out of there when the time came. It made him optimistic about potentially being able to escape. He tried spreading this optimism to the other people at the compound, but none of them were quick to share in his positivity.

“Don't bother trying to cheer those guys up,” Daphne told him at one point. “They've all lost hope of getting out of here a long time ago. Even death isn't always an escape--if people are willing to pay enough, Linderman will just keep bringing them back over and over again.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Hiro asked. “Did he bring you back to life?”

She nodded, gaze dropping. “Honestly, I would have been fine staying dead,” she said. “I mean, staying alive would have been nice, but I'd prefer death to this hellhole.”

“Once we get out of here, you can have the happy ending you deserve,” Hiro promised. “You and Matt--”

“You know what? This conversation is over,” she interrupted him, a red tint creeping into her cheeks. “I'm going to train. See ya, Pikachu.”

With that she ran off, headed down to the training room. Hiro sighed. Clearly Daphne was still reluctant to acknowledge her feelings for Officer Parkman. Admittedly, though, Hiro was afraid that he was just making more empty promises. In his world, Matt was perfectly happy with his wife and son (although he had recently complained that things were once again rocky between him and Janice). Was there any reason things would be different here? Perhaps whatever may have once existed between Matt and Daphne was a thing of the past. Still, that shouldn't have meant this version of Daphne couldn't find happiness somewhere else.

Sighing, Hiro headed back to the main section of the compound. For lack of anything else to do, he turned his attention to the TV set in the corner. It was playing a live broadcast from a stadium in another country. He didn't know who either of the people in the ring were, and it looked like the match was winding down; one of the fighters was clearly on their last legs. As the winning fighter thrust a powerful fist straight through their opponent's torso, Hiro got up and walked away. He couldn't stand to watch any more.


	14. Chapter 14

The harsh lights of the underground stadium reflected off the hot pink sequin-bedazzled suit of Ando's opponent. However, he found them not quite as blinding as he would have liked as he sent another burst of lightning her way. He could still make out her face. Guilt wormed in his gut as the other fighter stumbled back off the edge of the ring and plummeted toward the ground below. The crowd yelled out their protests while Ando looked away, bracing himself for the sickening crunch from below that would signal his victory.

He hated fighting in the ring. He positively despised it. It went against everything he and Hiro stood for. Sometimes Ando liked to pretend that all the people he was pitted against were villains, but he knew full well that probably wasn't true. He was just killing random people. But what choice did he have? Takeda warned him that he wasn't quite popular enough yet for Linderman to bother bringing him back if he died, so if Ando lost one of his matches, it would be the end of the line. Even if he hated it, he had to fight, and he had to win.

A few seconds passed, and then a few more. Murmurs of relief broke out in the crowd. Ando looked over the edge of the ring to see his opponent at the base of the platform, hovering about a foot off the ground. So that was why her stage name was the Crystal Kestrel.

Shooting him a devious grin, she rocketed back up to the top of the platform. Ando tried to shoot her down, but she raised her sword, which was fashioned from pink tourmaline, and blocked the blast. The weapon glinted as she thrust it into Ando's side. A wave of pain shot through him as the blade slid into him and then back out. Stars danced across his vision for a moment; his opponent took the opportunity to strike him again. This time, she swung for his throat.  _ How come everyone is always trying to cut my head off? _ Ando wondered as he jumped back to avoid the attack. The sword just narrowly missed its mark, leaving a thin red line across the front of his neck.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he grimaced at the throbbing pain in his side. In a mostly futile effort to stop the bleeding, he clamped his hand over the injury. Then, gritting his teeth, he grabbed the Crystal Kestrel by the arm and sent a powerful electric charge into her body. She convulsed, letting out an ear-piercing shriek. Then, as the shriek lapsed into silence, Ando dropped her and she fell limply to the floor. The battle was over.

An announcer stepped up and declared him the victor, met with boos from the crowd. Ando didn't care about his less-than-warm reception, but he hated himself for killing yet another opponent. He had kept track--counting Elle, this was the sixth life he had ended in the ring. At first he'd tried to convince himself it didn't matter since it was an alternate universe, but that didn't really make a difference. Hiro was--or rather, had been--right: just because these people were from another reality didn't make them any less human.

If Hiro could see Ando now, what would he think? He'd be ashamed. Ando hated knowing that his friend would have hated him for what he was doing. And Hiro's anger would have justified. Ando wasn't sure which was worse--that Hiro would have been ashamed of him, or that he wasn't around to feel that shame.

Oh, who was Ando kidding? He deserved to be looked down upon. Hiro didn't deserve to be dead.

After the match, Takeda congratulated Ando on, in his words, “another great fight”. He then took a look at Ando's injury. “It ain't so bad, kid,” he concluded after sticking a bandage over the jagged wound in his side. “Ya coulda gotten off a helluva lot worse.”

“That's good to hear,” Ando mumbled, but he didn't totally agree with his agent's words. He may have survived the match, but his mental health was still at an all-time low, and it was only deteriorating further every time he was forced into the ring.

“Now, kid, don't be so glum,” Takeda urged him. “Yer doin’ amazing out there! Sure, the crowds haven't warmed up to ya just yet, but just you wait--soon everybody's gonna be cheering for the Crimson Arc!”

Ando forced himself to smile. The crowd may not have been what was really bothering him, but he still appreciated his agent's attempts to lift his spirits. In this messed-up world, it seemed like Takeda was just about the only person on his side.

“Thanks, Sir,” he said. “That means a lot to me.”

Takeda clapped him on the back. “See, kid, that's the spirit!” he said. Then, in a more serious voice, “Kid, I really am so sorry about yer friend. I know yer still real torn up about him.”

Ando flinched.  _ Of course I'm still ‘torn up’ about him, _ he wanted to shout.  _ He was my best friend since we were in elementary school! _ However, he knew that taking his feelings out on Takeda wouldn't be fair. Even Elle wasn't truly to blame. Nobody was except for whoever had come up with the idea to pit people with powers against each other in the first place.

“It's really such a shame, too, ‘cause Linderman would've brought yer buddy back if he could've,” Takeda went on. “But not even Linderman can heal somebody who's had their head cut off.”

Wait. What?

“Head cut off?” Ando echoed. “That didn't happen to Hiro!”

Takeda gave him a puzzled look. “Weren't ya at the match, kid?” he asked. “That Kensei fella knocked his head clean off his shoulders, poor guy.”

Ando's mind raced. His agent was talking about the alternate version of Hiro--of course! He probably didn't even know about the other Hiro. Why would he? The fight with Elle had happened on the other side of the world.

“I, um,” he stammered, scrambling to come up with a reason to not know the outcome of a match he had attended. “Oh, that's right! How did I forget? Heh…”

“Kid, ya don't need to play dumb with old Takeda,” his agent said with a shake of his head. “I suspected for a long time now that ya ain't from this world.”

“You knew?!” Ando blurted, any attempt to maintain his cover promptly forgotten. “How?”

“Ya don't act like someone from this world,” Takeda said. “I'm pretty attuned to the vibes that folks from certain realities give off, and ya just don't give off vibes like the folks from here.”

That raised far more questions than it answered. Takeda looked like he knew this quite well, as he bit his lip and looked away as though to say he had said too much already. But Ando wanted to know more. How had his agent gotten so knowledgeable about parallel universes? Suddenly he got the feeling that there was a lot more to this old Osakan man than he let on.

“Have you ever been to another universe before?” Ando asked.

Takeda chuckled. “Oh, you can bet I have,” he said. “Don't tell my superiors, but I've got an ability myself, and it's travelling between different versions of reality.”

That was certainly new information. Ando blinked in surprise at the revelation. “Don't worry, I won't tell anyone,” he promised. Then, eager to learn more, he asked, “How many parallel worlds have you been to?”

“Oh, kid, I lost track a long time ago,” Takeda laughed. “But I think the real question is,” he added, a hopeful glint in his eyes, “do ya want me to take ya home?”

* * *

The next time Nathan had to go out of town for business, he left Claire with her grandmother. “Now that Elle’s gone, I don't feel comfortable leaving you at home by yourself,” he said. Claire was too fed up with her father to even argue with him about her independence. If Nathan thought that an 18-year-old, going on 19, was too tiny and delicate to look after herself, a few harsh words weren't going to change his mind. At this point, she was better off trying not to make her father hate her.

At least Angela was another one of the few family members Claire had left, but that didn't mean Claire wanted to stay at her house. If only she knew where Peter was, she had half a mind to run away and go stay with him. She'd always gotten the feeling that her uncle cared about her more than most other people. But if she really mattered that much to him, wouldn't he have told her before vanishing into the night?

Maybe nobody in her family really loved her at all. Maybe Elle was the only one who had ever truly cared for her. It was probably a dangerous sentiment to hold--that a girlfriend of only a couple years was a more meaningful relationship than people she was related to--but she had only known Elle for one year less than the Petrellis anyway. Blood ties didn't matter if there was no emotional bond.

Angela lived in one of the nicest parts of New York. Her house wasn't quite as luxurious as Nathan's, but she was still extremely well-off. She welcomed Claire inside with open arms, and despite her annoyance at being forced to stay with her, Claire held no contempt for Angela. Her grandmother always struck her as a lonely person, although perhaps the kind of lonely person whose isolation was mainly of her own doing.

Old pictures dotted the white and gray walls of the house. Most showed the Petrelli family, but there were a couple of photos of people Claire didn't recognize. However, on Angela’s bedside table, there was one particular photo which she was surprised to recognize. Specifically, she recognized it from the conspiracy board Hiro had set up while he and Ando had been staying at her place. It was a photo of Angela and her late husband with a group of people, mostly middle-aged or elderly save for a blond man standing off to the side who looked younger than the rest. While she didn’t think she’d ever met any of the people in the photo aside from her grandparents and maybe one other guy, a couple of them looked vaguely familiar, like she had seen them on the news at some point.

“Who are all these people?” she asked of Angela once, motioning to the photo. “Were they your friends?”

Angela sucked in a sharp breath. Something almost like regret flashed in her eyes for a moment. Then she scowled, grabbing the photo off the bedside table. She stuffed the picture into her medicine drawer, which she then locked shut.

“Get out of my bedroom right now,” she snapped.

“But--”

“Go on--out with you!”

“Okay, fine,” Claire huffed. “I don’t care about your dusty old photos anyway.”

Later, holed up in Angela’s guest room, Claire got out her phone and did some online research. Googling her grandmother's name revealed that Angela had been part of a group called the Company which had been disbanded after the government found out what they were doing. Quite a few former members had moved on to working for or at stadiums. However, the strangest case had to be that of Daniel Linderman. Nobody knew exactly what he was up to nowadays, but after doing a little digging around, Claire stumbled across a deep-web conspiracy thread regarding the mobster’s current occupation.

_ “The government doesn't want us to know this!!!”  _ one user had written.  _ “Last week I saw a person who died in the ring a year ago!” _

_ “TRUE STORY: Kiera Johnson (friend of mine who works at New York stadium) involved in underground conspiracy,” _ someone else claimed.  _ “Saw her with Linderman yesterday and denied it when asked for details.” _

While Claire was usually hesitant at best to buy into such outlandish ideas, it was tempting to believe the stories about a secret operation in which Linderman brought dead fighters back to life. Surely it wasn't true, but if it was… maybe Elle was among those who Linderman had resurrected! It may have been crazy and stupid, but if there was even the most miniscule sliver of a chance that Claire's girlfriend was still out there somewhere, she owed it to Elle to track her down and find her.

After further research, Claire figured out that if--and, she reminded herself, it was a big  _ if _ \--the theories were correct, Linderman was probably holding his operation all across the world, but the man himself most likely still lived in the same Las Vegas penthouse as always. She considered just going there, but she figured it would attract too much attention, and there was no way Linderman or the people working for him would let her in. First, she decided to find out a little more about what kind of security Linderman had--ideally from someone who had firsthand experience with the underground ring. Whatever angle of attack she took, it would no doubt still be dangerous--good thing she'd kept that dagger.

The next day, having found a lead, Claire approached Angela. “Hey, so, I'm in the travel club at college,” she lied. “We're going on our trip to Rome next week, just so you know.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Eh…” Claire tried to come up with a good estimate for how long her little detective mission might take. “A couple weeks?”

“Thank you for letting me know, dear,” Angela said. She said nothing of the photo she had gotten so worked up about the day before. “I hope you have fun.”

“I'm sure I will.”

Honestly, Claire was shocked at how easily her grandmother had bought her story. She could never get those kinds of lies past Nathan. Maybe the Petrelli family’s penchant for deceit was finally rubbing off on her.

Claire knew that her mission was almost certainly a wild goose chase. It would probably be completely pointless in the end, and it was far too great a risk for such a slim chance of success. But she had to try, didn't she? She loved Elle more than anything. And when you loved someone, you didn't just give up on them.

* * *

“Can you really get me home?”

“Of course I can, kid,” said Takeda. “It takes me a bit of effort to use my power nowadays, with me gettin’ older and all, but I'm sure I could get ya back to yer own dimension no problem.”

Ando was incredulous. It seemed too good to be true. After all this time, he could go home just like that? And what's more, Takeda could have taken him home all this time!

If only Ando had told him he was from another universe the first time they met at the Tokyo Stadium, he and Hiro could have gone home together… but he tried not to dwell on what could have been. As much as it hurt to acknowledge, Hiro was gone. Ando wasn't going to get him back. He had to accept that the chance for he and his friend to return to their own dimension together had passed. But now, Ando was being presented with an opportunity to get back to his world--how could he refuse?

“Can you take me home right now?” he asked hopefully.

Takeda pursed his lips and shook his head. “Ya got a big match scheduled for Friday,” he said. “The higher-ups won't be happy if ya randomly disappear. But,” he went on as Ando groaned in frustration, “After that, I think ya can get away with it.”

It was Tuesday, so that was only three days away. It was also the first Ando had heard of this upcoming match. That was a little odd; normally his agent informed him about scheduled fights much farther in advance. Did he really have the time to prepare?

Takeda must have seen the alarm in his face, because he explained that he had only just been informed of the upcoming match himself.

“I wouldn't worry, though, kid,” he said. “I don’t know who it is you'll be up against, but I'm sure you can beat 'em. Yer a talented guy, Masahashi.”

Despite his strong distaste for the ring, Ando couldn't help but swell with pride at his agent's praise. Even Hiro had rarely ever been so openly appreciative of Ando's abilities. He was always just the sidekick, never quite on the same level as Hiro. But Takeda didn't see him as a sidekick at all--he saw him as a young man with a lot of potential. That was the kind of positive feedback which Ando so rarely got, even from his best friend.

“Thank you, Sir,” Ando said. “That--that really means a lot to me.”

The next three days couldn't have gone by fast enough. While Ando was nervous about his upcoming match, his anxiety was outmatched by his excitement at the prospect of finally getting to go back to his own reality. He vowed that, as soon as he got home, he would march right up to Kimiko and promise her to never try to break things off between them again. Now more than ever, he felt that marrying her was the right thing to do, regardless of his personal romantic inclinations or lack thereof. After all, Hiro had worked so hard to get them together; he had to make sure that his friend's legacy was upheld. He even looked forward to going back to working at Yamagato. The sheer normalcy of a simple domestic life and an office job appealed to him so much after going through the hell that was this universe. Of course it would never be the same without Hiro. How could it have been? He would always miss his friend, no matter how much time passed. But Ando didn't need Hiro in order to have a good life. If he had been able to keep going without him for this long, he would find a way to keep going without him for the rest of his life.

_ I'm sorry you won't be with me, my friend _ , he thought, casting his gaze to the dark gray ceiling of the compound.  _ You were everything to me. _

But perhaps being everything was too much. Ando had to believe he would be able to find happiness even without his friend. Hiro was--had been--a good man, but he wasn't everything. Nobody was everything to anyone, or at least they shouldn't have been. Did that even make sense? Ando had no idea. He'd never really been the philosophical type.

* * *

The first time Hiro saw Ando on the TV set in the compound, he was extremely alarmed. What was his friend doing back in the ring? And arguably more worrisome, why was he actually killing his opponents? Even though Hiro knew the rules of the matches--the term “death battle” generally wasn't taken lightly--taking innocent lives went against everything Hiro stood for. He had always known that Ando wasn't quite at the same level of heroism as him, but… killing was wrong! That was just such a basic ethical fact, and yet in the grainy black-and-white footage of the TV, Hiro saw his best friend break this ethical code seemingly without remorse. What had this world turned Ando into?

_ But wait, _ he realized with a pang of relief,  _ this must be the alternate version of Ando! _ Hiro had been worried that his friend's alternate counterpart had died, but apparently that hadn't been the case after all. He and Ando were both no strangers to the ring in this universe, and although from what Hiro understood his own alternate self had retained a no-killing policy, it wasn't too much of a shock to learn that the same was not true for Ando. It still stung to know that any version of his friend had it in him to be so ruthless, but seeing as Hiro had once caught a glimpse of a future where Ando killed him, it wasn't the worst thing he'd seen a version of his friend be capable of. Just like the bad futures Hiro had seen, this universe did bad things to people. It twisted them around to the point where even someone like Claire was capable of awful things. In a world where you didn't have the people you cared about, it was easy to turn into a twisted perversion of your regular self.

That was another reason why Hiro had to get out of the compound and hopefully out of this universe as soon as possible. While he still stood firmly by the belief that the people in this world weren't inherently worse than the ones in his world, he definitely still preferred his reality to this one. Any world where people with powers were forced to battle to the death for entertainment wasn't a world Hiro wanted to be trapped in forever.

The day before his next match was set to occur, Hiro had a talk with Daphne. She approached him while he was in the training room trying to get a feel for his sword. His swings were hit-or-miss, and he knew he'd have to improve if he was expected to survive his match. He didn't notice Daphne come in at first; she drew his attention only when she charged at the training dummy he was practicing on and buried her knife in its head. The momentum knocked the dummy’s head clean off its shoulders, and it fell to the floor with a thump as Hiro jumped back, startled.

“Hey, so, I thought about what you said,” Daphne began. “About getting a happy ending. Pikachu, there's something I want you to tell me.”

“Yes?”

She stared at him in such a way that made it feel like she was staring directly into his soul. “How did I die?”

Hiro wasn't sure how to respond. He knew how she had died in his world, but in this world, it may not have panned out the same way. Was that why she was asking him--was she testing him? Hiro gulped. The last thing he wanted was another person knowing he was from a parallel universe.

“You… were shot,” he said, hoping that was still the correct answer for this world's version of Daphne. “Matt tried to save you, but he was too late.”

“Ding-dong, you are wrong,” Daphne singsonged. “Matt and I dated for a bit, and then we got engaged. The day before our wedding, I had a match scheduled. It was against some newbie, so I was sure I'd win. I lost. Question is,” she went on, her eyes narrowing into slits, “What world are you from where things didn't turn out that way?”

Hiro's throat tightened. He had no idea whether Daphne could be trusted to keep his being from another world a secret. If she told the wrong person, it could be disastrous. What could he possibly tell her that would convince her otherwise? He got the feeling that no matter what he said, it wouldn't be enough to dissuade her.

Luckily, before Hiro was forced to explain the whole situation, his agent came into the room to tell him it was time to train for his fight. Daphne's eyes bored into Hiro as he walked away, seeming to say,  _ you have a lot of explaining to do once you get back. _


	15. Chapter 15

Claire hopped off a Greyhound bus and stopped to look at her map. She held her hand in front of her face to shield her eyes against the bright midday sunlight as she traced her gaze along the roads she was supposed to go down, trying to figure out the quickest and safest way to reach her destination from the bus terminal. At least she was finally in LA, and it had taken her long enough to get there.

There was something oddly familiar about California. She had never been there before, but when passing through the city of Costa Verde, she'd felt… weird. She didn't feel as at home as she had when she'd lived in Texas, but when she felt more like she belonged in a state she hadn't visited before than she did in New York, something was up. It was like, she didn't belong there, but in another world maybe she did.

Her lead was supposed to live on 201 Poplar Street. If the shady recount he had provided on an online message board was to be believed, he was a former agent of Linderman, and was in the know about the underground stadiums. His online name was “xxxSCARMANxxx”--a typically edgy name for the type of message board he posted on. His profile picture was a compressed jpeg of a sad anime girl, which didn't give Claire much to go on in terms of who the man actually was. She felt kind of ridiculous relying on the word of someone who she only knew as “Scarman”, but what else did she have to work with? If this guy could get her information on Linderman’s alleged operations, that was good enough for her.

It was a good thing that Claire came from such a well-off family on her father's side, because Angela had provided her with $5,000 in cash for her “trip to Rome” without hesitation. It had seemed like an almost infinite amount when she had departed four days prior, but after a bit of excessive spending toward the beginning of her trip, she was down to $2,840 and wanted to spend it a bit more wisely. As such, when she decided to stop for lunch, she just went to a fast food joint rather than the classy-looking restaurant across the street from it.

Hung up outside the place she ate at was a poster for an upcoming match at the LA Stadium. Fed up with having to hear about those damn matches all the time, Claire ripped the poster off the wall, crumpled it up, and tossed it in the gutter. Couldn't anybody think about anything else for a change? She was already on a top-secret mission to gain information about an underground version of the same type of matches, and her motivation for doing so was the off-chance of getting back her girlfriend who had died in the ring. Everything led back to the same horrible foundation.

By the time Claire arrived on Poplar Street, the sun was going down. Dark clouds had settled over LA, and a chill wind blew by. Claire shivered, wishing she had brought a jacket. The house where her lead was supposed to live looked just like any other typical suburban home, with nothing about its pastel green exterior signaling that somebody important lived there. It didn't feel like the kind of place where a former agent of Linderman should have resided. Silly as it was, Claire felt like she should have been arriving at an old decrepit shack in a bog somewhere, not this quaint, innocent-looking little house.

The curtains were drawn shut, but there was a car in the driveway, so Claire figured that the homeowner must have been there. Taking in a deep breath, she walked up the driveway and onto the front porch. She then rang the doorbell and waited for an answer.

Almost immediately, somebody came to the door: a Middle Eastern man who looked to be about middle-aged, with a tall, wiry frame and paint stains on his clothing. He stared Claire down with a puzzled, but not hostile expression. He didn't at all look like what Claire had expected. Was this the right guy?

“Um, hi,” she said, wincing as her voice came out as a nervous squeak. “Are you ‘Scarman’?”

He raised his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a bemused smile. “Afraid not,” he said. “Why do you ask?”

“Have you ever heard of a guy named Linderman?” Claire inquired. Maybe he just wasn't used to people addressing him by his online username. “He didn't send me,” she added in case he thought she was one of Linderman's agents.

“I don’t know who that is,” the man told her. Glancing her up and down as she stood shivering on his porch, he gestured to the inside of his house. “Why don't you come inside for a moment, child? You look cold.”

Claire shook her head. “No, I'm fine,” she told him. Then, unwilling to give up her search just yet: “When did you buy this house, and who lived here before you?”

“I've lived here about half a year now,” he said. He continued to hold the door open, as though hoping she'd change her mind and come inside to warm up. “The guy who lived here before me died before I moved in. I never knew him, but the neighbours say it was under some odd circumstances.”

So her lead was dead. Claire cursed under her breath; now how was she supposed to find out about Linderman? Still, if “Scarman” had died under mysterious circumstances, that at least gave her something to go off. If she asked around the neighbourhood, maybe she would discover that Linderman had hunted him down and taken him out for fear of him spreading the word about the underground operation.

“Thank you for the intel,” she said, dipping her head to him as she backed off his front porch.

He sent her a smile that was edged with concern. “Glad I could help.”

* * *

“Care to demonstrate some of your moves, Nakamura?” said Johnson, motioning to one of the less-destroyed dummies in the training room.

Without waiting for an answer, she sat down on the bench and leaned up against the wall, watching Hiro closely as he picked up the blade and faced the dummy, entering his best attempt at a fighting stance. He was getting used to using a dao instead of a katana, but the Chinese blade was still a bit unwieldy in his grasp. He wondered whose idea it had been to have him use a sword from a different culture in the first place. Had it been Johnson's idea, or had one of her higher-ups made the decision?

Trying to imagine the training dummy as a great threat he had to take down, Hiro took a swing at its chest area. His first swing was clumsy, and he tripped, catching himself by digging his sword into the dummy’s head. A bit of the sand inside it spilled out the top. Yanking his sword out, Hiro took another swing, this time aiming for the neck. His sword sliced through the fabric of the dummy like it was nothing, and the head came flying off. It felt oddly exhilarating, like watching the hero of an action movie cut down bad guys. Then, as the head of the training dummy hit the floor with a dull thud, Hiro remembered that he was expected to do that to an actual person in just a few hours’ time. Suddenly the sand spilling out the top of the decapitated dummy looked an awful lot like blood which would be on his hands if he did what was expected of him.

Johnson clapped in approval. “Well done, Nakamura,” she said. “If you can make such a clean cut in the ring, you just might win.”

“But… I don't want to kill anyone,” Hiro lamented. “It isn't right!”

“That's just how it has to be,” she said. “If you don't kill your opponent, you think they'll hesitate to kill you? It's either them or you, and to be perfectly frank, I'd rather see you win.”

Hiro shuddered at his agent's words. He had absolutely no intention to kill his opponent, but depending on how strong they were, there was a good chance that he would have to think fast in the ring to avoid being killed himself. Dying once had been more than bad enough; he didn't want to go through it again. At least now his powers had returned and he'd be able to teleport away if things got too dire.

Once he was out of there, his first priority was to find Ando. Maybe he would check in on alternate-Claire and see if she knew where his friend was. Once Hiro found Ando, they would go back to searching for a way back to their universe. It would be good to finally see Ando again-- _ his  _ Ando. Again, Hiro had nothing against the people of this universe, but he didn't much care for the version of his friend he saw on that TV set. And he missed his friend terribly, to an extent that surprised even himself. It made his heart ache so strongly that, if Hiro didn’t know better, he might mistake what he felt toward Ando for…

“Quit staring into space,” Johnson snapped, jerking Hiro out of his thoughts. “Your opponent isn't going to wait around for you if you start daydreaming like that during your match tomorrow. Get to work!”

Nodding, Hiro picked up the head and placed it back on the training dummy. He then took a couple steps back, struck a pose, and moved to strike it again.

* * *

Janice had taken Mattie out for a weekend-long mother-child camping retreat with some of her friends, so Matt had the house to himself that Friday evening. He was content to sit back and watch some TV. There was this hilarious new cop show on the air that he was really loving, and he couldn't wait to watch the next episode. The theme song had been stuck in his head all week.

However, just as he sat down to watch his show, the doorbell rang. That was odd--he wasn't expecting any visitors. He figured it was probably just a door-to-door salesman or something, so he ignored it at first. Then the doorbell was followed up by a rap on the door. Were door-to-door salesmen that persistent? Turning the TV off with a beleaguered sigh, Matt got up and answered the door. He was surprised to find that it was definitely not a door-to-door salesman, but rather the last person he had ever expected to see standing on his doorstep, staring up at him with an intensity which more than compensated for her short stature. Her eyes widened as he opened the door, and she took a step back, cheeks colouring in embarrassment.

“Hi,” she said, sounding almost as surprised to see him as he was to see her. She let out a nervous giggle. “Uh, fancy meeting you here.”

Matt cocked his head. “Claire? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know… I was just in the neighbourhood,” Claire said with a forced-casual wave of her hand. “Dad took me here on a business trip, actually.”

“Is that so?” Matt couldn't have been further from believing her, but he decided to play along for a bit. Claire Gordon wasn't the type to do things for no reason. Whatever her motivation was for paying him a visit, it was most likely something he'd benefit from knowing about. “Well, it's nice to see you. Why don't you come in?”

Claire glanced furtively from side to side, biting her lip. “...Okay.”

A few minutes later, they were sitting next to each other on the living room sofa watching TV. Claire was shoveling corn chips into her mouth with a passion while Matt talked back to the TV. It was an unbreakable habit of his that Janice always gave him flack for. Yeah, of course he knew the characters couldn't hear him--if they could, hopefully they'd listen a bit better than they did--but even so, it was impossible for him not to speak up about it when the main protagonist was so deep in denial about his feelings for his coworker.

“Oh, come on,” he yelled as the protagonist and his coworker stumbled through an awkwardly flirtatious conversation. “Just tell her you like her already!”

“Yeah!” Claire agreed through a mouthful of chips. “It's literally so obvious she likes you back!”

“Ooh, but what if she doesn't?” Matt fretted. “Man, I wish I could go inside the screen and read their minds.”

The episode ended with the romantic tension between the protagonists going unacted upon once again. Matt groaned in frustration as he turned the TV to another channel. Why did shows always drag romances out like that? Whenever he fell in love, he fell so hard and so fast that he couldn't imagine going so long without telling the other person he loved them.

On the TV, a news reporter spoke of a strange occurrence in Tokyo--a man who had been seen alive three days after his suicide. Apparently he had since vanished, like his sudden reappearance hadn't happened at all--or like somebody was trying to make it seem like that was the case. As a man who had investigated his fair share of mysterious incidents, Matt had to wonder if something funny was going on. It reminded him of what one of his neighbours had talked about once. That neighbour wasn't around anymore, but Matt remembered a story the guy had told once about a secret organization he'd been part of--some real conspiracy-type stuff. Claire seemed intrigued by the news report as well, and as she finished off the bag of corn chips, she turned off the TV and glanced at Matt, a serious expression on her face.

“Okay, so, since you read minds and all, I'm guessing you didn't believe what I told you earlier,” she said. “You want to know why I'm actually here? I followed a lead--a guy who used to live down the block from you. I'm trying to get information about Linderman.”

Matt blinked in surprise. “What do you need to know about him for?”

“I think he's involved in some kind of underground conspiracy,” she said. “That news report about the dead guy being seen alive? I think that's connected.”

“You know, I did have a neighbour once who talked about working for Linderman,” Matt said. “I think he said something about dead fighters coming back to life. I never believed him at the time, but…”

“Did he live on 201 Poplar Street?” she asked. Matt nodded, and her eyes lit up. “That's him, then.”

Unfortunately, Matt wasn't sure how much help he'd be. His neighbour’s tales had seemed so far-fetched at the time that he hadn't paid total attention to them, so he didn't have all the details Claire wanted. He certainly couldn't have told her how to track Linderman down, or find his secret underground facility, if such a thing even existed. Maybe it was all just a crazy conspiracy theory. (And, for the record, his former neighbour had only lived in his neighbourhood for a few months before suddenly passing away; it was lucky he could remember the guy to begin with). He explained this to her, and although Claire's smile dimmed, she didn't seem too discouraged.

“Oh, well,” she said with a shrug, getting up off the sofa and stretching. “I guess I'll ask around some more. Thanks for having me over.”

“Hold on,” said Matt. It was creeping up on 8 pm, and from what he could see, Claire didn't have a jacket with her. “Have you got a place to stay for tonight?”

She didn't answer, but a shift in her gaze told him that she didn't. “I'm fine,” she said a bit defensively.

“You know, we have a guest room with a pullout couch,” Matt told her, hitching his thumb down the hall toward the room in question. “You can spend the night here if you like.”

“Oh, thanks, but that's okay,” she said, flashing him a confident smile which looked fake. “I'm good, honestly!”

She headed toward the door. Matt wondered whether or not to stop her. He may not have been particularly close to her, but he liked to think he was the type to always help a person in need. Looking at Claire right then, she didn't look like the grown woman she was trying to be. She looked like a kid--no different from Molly, or even Mattie. She needed somebody to watch over her--not to guard her innocent soul from the cruel outside world, but simply to keep her company and make things a little easier for her.

Claire headed outside. Matt stood up and followed her. She jumped as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” he said. “You know you can depend on people, right? You don't need to be on your own.”

“I know that,” Claire said. She sounded like she didn't totally believe herself. As she stood on his driveway in the darkening evening, Matt noticed a slight shiver in her arms. “I just don't know how many people I have who I  _ can _ depend on.”

“That's nonsense,” Matt argued. “I mean… you have lots of folks who really care about you. Your family, your friends--”

“None of them are around!” Claire snapped, tiny pinpricks of tears appearing in the corners of her eyes. “Mom and Flint and Elle are all dead, Dad is never around, Peter has gone off somewhere--maybe he's dead too for all I know--and nobody from the college really cares about me!”

Matt gulped, suddenly realizing just how much Claire had lost in a short span of time. Maybe she was right; she could have stood to have a lot more people in her life who she could count on. As much as he wanted to help her, he couldn't really call himself her friend. But what about her college friends? Surely she was wrong about them not caring.

“How can you be so sure your friends don't care?” he asked.

“You were at Elle’s match, weren't you? None of them did anything to stop her,” she said. She sniffled, drawing her hand across her face to wipe away the tears which were beginning to roll down her cheeks. “If Becky or the other girls really cared about me, they wouldn't have just sat there and let Elle do that to Hiro. They wouldn't--” she sucked in a trembling breath. “They wouldn't have let Ando do that to Elle!”

At this, Matt could no longer stand idly by. He had to do what Claire's friends had not and do something for her. “Come here,” he murmured, pulling her into a hug. She resisted for a moment before leaning into his embrace, trembling. Matt felt her tears soak into the fabric of his shirt as he held her--this little girl who needed so much more than she had, so much more than he or anyone could provide. Nathan was his friend, more or less, but the senator was always a politician before he was a father. And Claire deserved so much better than that.


	16. Chapter 16

_ Maybe Hiro is right, _ Daphne thought as she paced the training room in the compound.  _ Maybe I do deserve a happy ending. _ She kicked the decapitated head of a training dummy and watched it roll across the floor until it bumped up against the feet of the dummy it had come from. Her foot wasn't too happy with her for kicking a heavy bag of sand, and it sent a ripple of pain all the way up her leg. Cursing, she hopped around and shook her leg out until the pain subsided. How come she kept sabotaging herself like that? God, she was such an idiot. And what's worse, she was an idiot who was  _ hung up on a guy. _ Pathetic.

Of course, Daphne had good reason to be hung up on Matt. She had no idea about whatever reality Hiro was from--because from the way he acted around her, he clearly wasn't from her universe, and besides, he was missing the scar she had given him in their first match. In her version of events, though, she had first met Matt while fighting in an illegal match in a dark alleyway somewhere. The police had shown up, and  _ that damn idiot  _ had been among them. When he'd noticed she was hurt, he had driven her to a hospital to patch her up. A couple weeks later, when Arthur Petrelli’s plans had fallen through, Daphne had been arrested along with everyone else involved in the scheme. However, Matt had fought against his superiors to get her bailed out, recognizing a potential for good in her. She had warmed up to him over time, and they'd started dating shortly thereafter.

Matt wasn't even that cute, really. Daphne could probably do a lot better. “All cops are bastards” and all that, right? Plus, that face he made when he was reading somebody's mind was so stupid, even if it was kind of endearing. He was such an idiot, he wasn't all that good-looking, and…

And Daphne was still very much in love with him.

She tried so hard to deny it, but it was true, and it sucked. It sucked mostly because she knew he had probably moved on from her. She'd died almost two years ago now, and in that time, a guy like him was bound to have found somebody else. Daphne would have liked to find somebody else, but as long as she was stuck in the underground complex, that wasn't going to happen. Everybody at the compound had, at any given moment, a life expectancy of anywhere from a month to a day, tops. Most of them weren't even good enough for Linderman to keep bringing them back each time they died. Sure, some of them wound up sticking around longer than others depending on who won the fights, but Daphne wasn't interested in falling for a guy who could die in the ring at any time. She especially didn't want to date anybody who she might end up having to fight. Boy, what kind of Shakespearean crap would that be?

The power-suppressing drugs were beginning to wear off. It was getting to the point where Daphne could easily escape the complex if she knew her way out, which meant that before long somebody was going to come around and give her another injection. If she wanted to leave and go off in search of a better life, now was her chance. Sure, she'd probably get lost in all the hallways that all looked the same, but as long as nobody caught her…

Daphne, like everyone else at the compound, was allowed to roam around the complex as long as she was accompanied by her agent. The doors were heavily guarded, so she grabbed her knife and slipped it into her back pocket before approaching her agent and asking him to go with her on a walk around the compound during the night. He agreed, and they wandered about for some time. Once the hall started branching off, she decided to stick to the left and see what happened. She knew she was going the right way when her agent tapped her gently but forcefully on the shoulder.

“Let's turn around and head back, shall we?” he asked in a tone that told Daphne that he wasn't really offering her a choice.

Daphne slipped her hand into her pocket and wrapped it around the handle of her knife. “I'd rather keep going a while.”

Her agent's eyebrows furrowed. “Miss Millbrook, let's not start a conflict over this,” he said. “We have gone far enough. It's time to head back to the compound.”

“Too bad,” Daphne said, her voice dripping with faux-sweetness. Before her agent could do anything to stop her, she took off down the hall, leaving him in the dust.

Daphne was well aware that her agent was probably informing his colleagues about her running off, so she'd have to move fast. Good thing that was her power. After a couple seconds of superpowered sprinting, she came across a door with a guard stationed outside of it, about ten metres down the hall. Ducking around a corner to hide from the guard’s line of sight, Daphne tightened her grip on her knife. She then charged toward him at top speed.

“Hey! Wh--”

The guard was abruptly cut off as Daphne breezed by him, slitting his throat. She grabbed a lanyard from around his neck which had some keys on it. Then she was forced to stop and fumble around a little to find the right key for the door in front of her. Hopefully nobody else had heard the guard’s shout, but she doubted she would be that lucky.  _ Come on, you stupid door! _ One key slid halfway into the lock and then wouldn't fit the rest of the way. Another seemed to fit perfectly until she tried to turn it and nothing happened. Maybe the really rusty one?

From down the hall behind her, she heard voices approaching.  _ Crap. _ If she could just find the right key to get the door open, she could outrun any of Linderman's goons in the blink of an eye, but if she didn't find the right key…

“Stop what you're doing and come with us!” one of the other guards commanded.

Daphne didn't turn around from her struggle with the door--the rusted key didn't work on it either--but the guard sounded like he was awfully close behind her. His words were accentuated by the distinct sound of a gun cocking. Daphne gritted her teeth. There were only two keys left on the lanyard: a slim silver one and a large, clunky gold one. Which key she tried first could make or break her escape attempt--or her life. She studied the size of the keyhole; it was a little on the small side. She tried the silver key.

_ Click. _ The key slid into the hole and turned perfectly--just as a gunshot rang out behind her. Daphne flung the door open and bolted through, slamming it shut behind her. She tore down the hall, too quick for even a bullet to catch her. It felt beyond exhilarating to run so fast after such a long time. There were a few more guards she came across who she took care of without issue.

Eventually, she came to another door, this one completely unguarded, and it was time for another exciting round of “find the proper key”. The silver key didn't work this time, and neither did the gold one, but the old rusted key worked. It figured that the oldest-looking key worked on what was probably the most important door. Beyond was a dimly lit staircase, at the top of which was yet another door. Daphne zipped up the stairs and jammed the gold key into the final keyhole, giving it a twist. Sure enough, the door opened to reveal the backstage area of the regular New York Stadium.

As Daphne stepped out of the darkness and into the brightness of the aboveground stadium, her heart was hammering. Surely that wasn't really it, was it? It had to be harder than that! As her eyes adjusted to the new lighting, she glanced furtively around for more of Linderman's agents. They could be lurking around any corner. But… they weren't. She'd done it. She'd really done it, just like that!

“Awesome,” she said aloud as she wiped sweat off her brow. “Suck on that, Linderman!”

Well, nobody was pursuing her at the moment, but she knew those guys would be after her before long. She couldn't stick around the New York Stadium for long, and she wasn't going to. Daphne had better places to go--like LA, for instance. There was a certain psychic cop who she was (no pun intended) dying to see again.

* * *

The day Hiro was supposed to have his match, there was a bit of a hubbub in the underground complex. Apparently one of the fighters had escaped overnight, and a couple of guards had been found with their throats slit. Hiro later learned that the escaped fighter was none other than Daphne. Because of this, the compound went into a lockdown mode. Hiro's match was rescheduled, and all agents were ordered to stick with their respective fighters at all times to prevent any other escapes. Hiro was relieved to not have to fight just yet, as he still felt ridiculously unprepared, but he tried to act disappointed since it felt like that was what was expected of him.

That day, like the day before it, was largely filled with training. However, the air conditioner in the training room broke down and Hiro got overheated fast while he was practicing his sword moves, so he sat down next to Johnson on the bench for a drink of water. The water, which had been sitting for hours on end in a metal bottle and was now lukewarm, had an awful metallic taste to it that made Hiro involuntarily screw up his face when he drank it, but it was better than being dehydrated.

While he was taking a break from training, Hiro tried making a bit of conversation with his agent. He didn't have much luck with her, however. Johnson clearly possessed no interest in being friendly with him. When he asked how long she had worked for Linderman, she told him that was classified information. When he tried asking what her job had been before, she told him it wasn't important. To the question of where she was from, she (probably sarcastically) inquired if Hiro was trying to pick her up. He assured her that he wasn't; Johnson harrumphed and said nothing.

It was a bit odd, Hiro thought, that the woman who had put her career on the line to defend him was unwilling to have a pleasant chat with him, but he respected her wishes and gave up on trying to talk to her. They sat in silence for a few minutes until suddenly, Johnson spoke up.

“I was born and raised in Canada,” she said. “My parents were on a cross-country road trip when they had me. It took them years to settle down in one place. I just wanted them to quit driving around and have a normal life already.”

Hiro blinked at his agent's sudden act of opening up to him. “Where did they end up settling down?” he asked.

“Nunavut, if you can believe it. Cold as hell, and we were the only people around for kilometres. It was awful,” she said with what sounded like a stifled laugh. “The second I graduated, I took off for America. I went to New York, clichéd as it was, to chase my dreams. Didn't go well.”

“What were those dreams?” Hiro asked. “Maybe if you quit your current job, some of them could still come true.”

“Oh, it's the stupidest thing, but…” Johnson sighed, stopping to take a swig of water before continuing. “I really wanted to be a paleontologist. Instead I wound up working three minimum wage jobs to pay the rent on my apartment. If I had a power, I'd probably have wound up in the ring myself.”

Hiro murmured in sympathy for his agent's plight. He knew he was fortunate to have a power that let him fulfill a heroic destiny. If it weren't for his superhuman abilities, he may well have been stuck in a boring office job all his life.

“Eventually, I did join up with the ring, but not as a fighter--as an agent for an up-and-coming young man called Peter,” she went on. “Peter showed a lot of talent, and he worked his way up the ranks like it was nothing. I was so proud of him.”

At the mention of the fighter’s name, Hiro perked up attentively. Was that the same Peter he knew? If so, was there a chance that Johnson knew what had happened to him?

“...But then one day, he took off on us,” Johnson sighed. “The owner of the stadium I worked at blamed me for ‘letting him get away’, and I got fired. I tried to find out where Peter had taken off to, and in my searches, I stumbled across the underground stadiums. Linderman hired me on the spot, and the rest is history.”

“And did you find your missing fighter?”

“No, I have no idea where he ended up.”

Oh--so she didn't know what had happened to Peter. Hiro slumped in disappointment. It wasn't that he was personally affected by the fate of an alternate-universe counterpart of one of his friends, but there were certainly a lot of people in this world who might have been. Besides, seeing as he was currently stuck in this world--although he was determined he wouldn't be stuck there forever--it was hard not to see the alternate versions of people as their counterparts from his reality. It was why he worried so much about this world's very troubled version of Claire, and desperately wanted this world's Daphne to get the happy ending she hadn't gotten in his world. It was why, parallel universe or not, he hated every match he had seen so far. Deaths in fiction were fine, exciting even, but in his real life, Hiro didn't like things that ended in death. As a rule, he liked to try to avoid death, for himself and for others, as much as possible. A lot of times it just wasn't possible, though, and that inability to save people was one of the greatest sources of heartache and frustration in his life.

“How about you, Nakamura?” Johnson asked him once she was finished telling him about herself. “Have you got a story to tell?”

“I do!”

“Then can I hear it?”

Hiro grinned. People never gave him a chance to talk about himself! And he had so many things to tell her…

* * *

_ Right, left, forward, back, strike.  _ Ando repeated the motions, dodging imaginary attacks from the now quite charred training dummy propped up in front of him before sending another blast its way. It was difficult to imagine the smoldering sack of sand as a potentially deadly foe to face, but he did his best. He tried to picture the dummy as one of the villains he and Hiro had gone up against. Sylar, maybe?

From his position on the bench, Takeda gave Ando an assuring smile. “You can do it, kid,” he said. “Just keep it up.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Ando said, stopping to give his agent a polite bow. “Say, Takeda-san, do you think you could stand over by the training dummy and say some lines?”

“Like what?”

“Like, um…” Ando cleared his throat and attempted to put on an American accent. “‘Your brain? What would I want with  _ your _ brain?’”

Takeda raised his eyebrows. “Why would anybody say that?”

“Somebody said it to me once.”

“No way. Yer kidding!” Takeda chuckled. “Some fool really said that to ya? What's wrong with yer brain that some fella wouldn't want it?”

Ando blushed. Was he really expected to recount the whole story? He knew his agent was proud of him, and somehow he got the feeling that that pride would be diminished if he told him about the time when he, not having had a power at the time, had gone alone to challenge a ruthless and insanely powerful serial killer. It was something Hiro still teased him about. Or, no, wait; Hiro  _ had _ teased him about it. It still hurt every time Ando had to internally correct himself--to remind himself that his dear friend only existed in the past tense. He wondered if he would ever stop forgetting that Hiro was gone. He wasn't sure whether it would be better or worse when he finally did.

“Aw, never mind that, kid,” Takeda said quickly, waving his hand in the air dismissively. “No need to explain yerself; I'll say the line for ya.”

Ando glanced back over to the training dummy. He really had done quite a lot of damage to it already. Several spots on the dummy's fabric covering were charred a deep black, and some parts were burnt all the way through, causing bits of sand to spill out here and there. The only place that remained intact--the spot which he went out of his way to avoid striking--was the centre. He had hoped that avoiding the chest area of the dummy would prevent painful memories from popping up, but now he saw that nothing he did would be enough to stop that deep, awful sadness from creeping back. Even if the targeted area was different, the sight of grisly burns covering the training dummy's light gray cloth exterior still managed to remind him of the way Hiro's body had looked after the fight with Elle. Ando couldn't make himself imagine the dummy as a villain, but now he couldn't stop imagining it as the lifeless body of his best friend.  _ Dammit, what's wrong with me? _ he thought as tears began welling up in his eyes. Why couldn't he just forget about Hiro and move on with his life? Why did he have to be so pathetic?!

As Ando blinked back his tears, Takeda got up and put an arm around his shoulder. “Hey, kid, ya don't gotta cry like that,” he said. “I told ya I'd say the line, didn't I?”

“It's not that,” Ando told him, barely able to choke out the words. “It's just…”

He trailed off, swallowing hard, but not hard enough to get rid of the lump in his throat.  _ Dammit _ . He couldn't let himself cry. That was something Hiro did, not him, and even Hiro didn't do it much anymore. Oh, wait--Hiro didn't do anything anymore, did he? He was dead.

It was just all so unfair. They shouldn't have gotten stuck in an alternate universe to begin with, his alternate self should have showed up to the match against Elle like he was supposed so, and Hiro… Hiro should have just stayed in his seat. He should have stayed  _ alive! _ If only Ando had been able to hold his own against Elle, Hiro wouldn't have teleported into the ring and taken Elle’s attack. In the end, it was Ando's own incompetence that had gotten Hiro killed. Some sidekick he was.

“I--I'm so useless,” Ando managed to get out.

Takeda took a deep breath. When he spoke up, his tone was gentler than Ando had expected his Osakan accent to be capable of. “Listen, kid,” he said slowly, in the voice of a man who had no idea how to help but was determined to do something, “I really am proud of ya. And ya know what? I think yer friend woulda been awful proud of ya, too.”

Ando appreciated his agent's words, but they rang empty nonetheless. It was hard to believe that Hiro would ever have been proud of what he was doing. Hiro would have been ashamed of him. Even so, he put on a smile and wiped away his tears. It didn't matter how much he hated the person he was becoming. After this fight--as long as he survived--he would go back to his own reality. From there, he still wasn’t sure exactly where he’d go, but regardless… this would be the last time he would ever need to set foot in the ring.

“Th-thank you, Sir,” Ando said earnestly. “I'm glad to have made you proud.”

* * *

Linderman had really thought Ms. Millbrook's agent was reliable. He had counted on the agent to keep the rebellious speedster in check and prevent her from escaping the compound. Needless to say, that agent had failed him in the worst way. It was a display of such sheer incompetence that Linderman had no choice but to rid himself of the agent immediately in order to avoid the repeat of a similar mistake. However, that did nothing to solve the problem of Daphne herself. Due to her power, she could have been anywhere, and she would have been able to vacate that location at a moment's notice if she knew he was tracking her. And Daphne was no fool, he knew; she would be expecting Linderman to hunt her down and try to recapture her.

Well, in that case, pursuing her would be a futile effort. However, to ensure that her escape would not go unpunished, he would find another way to make the speedster suffer for her acts. He had an agent working at the LA Stadium--an eager-to-please young woman by the name of Kimberly--who had been pestering him nonstop lately about wanting a chance to use the new model of gun he had issued his agents recently. That agent would finally be able to put her weapon to good use--not on Daphne herself, but on a person who she was close to. Naturally, though, if Daphne happened to be present at the time, it would be quite serviceable to have her taken out as well.

Linderman got in contact with Kimberly and told him that he had a job for her. He knew she would be delighted by the opportunity to try out her shiny new gun, and sure enough, she practically squealed with enthusiasm when Linderman told her the parameters of her task. He winced at the sound; he'd have to have a talk with Kimberly about her professionalism once she got her job done.

“Ms. Millbrook will most likely have arrived at the Parkman residence by now, if that's where she's headed,” Linderman told her after filling her in on Matt's address. “If you see her there, take her down. If not, dispose of Parkman anyway. She'll find out about it soon enough.”

“When do you want this done by, Sir?” Kimberly asked.

Linderman leaned back in his chair and tapped his fingers on his desk. “I've got a pot roast in the oven right now,” he said. “By the time it's finished cooking, I want you to have completed your task.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said; Linderman could picture her at the other end of the line with an eager glint in her eye. “I won't let you down.”


	17. Chapter 17

Claire left Matt's house feeling oddly refreshed. It felt nice to know that there really were people out there who were willing to go out of their way to help her. It encouraged her to start working with the people in her life a little more. Maybe all she needed to do to be loved was to get out into the world and connect with people.

Things with “Scarman” may have fallen through, but she wasn't ready to give up her quest quite yet. She was still determined to discover the truth about Linderman's underground operation eventually. However, she decided to change unraveling that particular conspiracy to a long-term goal; she had other, equally important things to do in the meantime.

First of all, Claire planned to return home. She'd tell Angela what she was really doing--though in retrospect, she got the feeling her grandmother already knew she wasn't really on a school trip--and then stay in New York to gather resources and information for a while. If Nathan didn't approve, so what? Either he'd come around in time or she could manage without him. Either way would be fine by her, but she did hope her father would be supportive. The more people she had on her side, the better. After all, she planned to become quite a controversial figure once she graduated college.

Oh yeah, that was another thing--she also planned to go back to school come the next semester. Claire needed to complete a college education if she wanted to get by in adult life. Maybe she could major in socio-political studies. Then, after graduation, she planned to get involved in activism for the rights of people with powers. She was the one who had initially exposed people like her to the world; she figured she owed it to everyone to be the one who tried to make things better for them. She knew Mohinder was currently advocating for people with powers to be treated better--perhaps she could work side by side with him. It wouldn't be easy, but she was willing to do whatever it took to ensure that fighting rings would one day be no more.

Most likely, making fighting stadiums illegal would lead to a boom in the underground rings. People loved those matches, and if they were outlawed, more people would turn to unofficial junctions. With any luck, Claire could use this to infiltrate the underground operation and shut it down. She knew she was assigning herself an incredibly difficult task, but she was tough enough to take it on. One might even say that she was indestructible.

For the time being, though, she was content to simply head home. Before she left, she exchanged phone numbers with Matt; she figured it was good to have as many contacts as possible. If she was going to start a revolution one day, she would need allies. Maybe when she went back to college, she could try to make some new friends who were a little more like-minded. Claire might have felt alone in the world, but she saw now that her situation wasn’t helpless if she had people there to support her. The ring had taken a lot from her, but that was just more motivation to shut it down, not a reason to give up and stew in self-pity.

Before she left LA, Claire stopped at an arts and crafts store and picked up a can of bright orange spray paint. Then, on the way to the bus terminal, she dropped by the LA Stadium. After making sure nobody was around to see her, she gave the spray paint a shake and painted a message onto the walls of the building: “BE READY”, spelled out in all caps. It was a warning to the people who worked at the stadium, to the higher-ups behind it, and to the world. She wasn't ready to put her plan into action yet--she wouldn't be for years--but it was never too early to plant the seed.

For now, Claire was going home. But one day, she was going to change the world. One day, Claire Gordon was going to go down in history as a revolutionary.

* * *

The last few hours leading up to what was to be his last fight before going home should have been stressful, but instead, Ando found them almost cathartic. After this match, he was going home. He would finally leave this alternate reality behind after being trapped there for over two months. In the long term, it didn't seem like such a long stretch of time, but it had felt like years. This world had turned him into a hollow shell of himself, and he couldn't wait to get out and return to his old life.

Then again, going back to his old life wasn't really an option. Hiro had been such an integral part of who Ando was that, without him, life would be wildly different, and Ando was fairly sure the change would ultimately be for the worse. Even so, he would find a way to make his life worth living.

For the first time, Ando understood how Hiro had managed to remain so enthusiastic and joyful even after suffering so much. It wasn't that his friend had just been naïve; he'd just found something to smile about no matter how much he lost. Ando could be like that too. He would never fully heal from the loss of his friend, and that was okay. If he tried to pretend that things would ever truly go back to normal, he'd be lying to himself. He didn't have to get over Hiro to get on without him.

“Ya ready, kid?” Takeda asked as Ando suited up in his black jacket and combat boots. Then he added, “I really am proud of ya.”

Ando nodded, pleased as always to receive his agent's approval. He tightened the laces on his boots with a sharp tug and smoothed out his jacket before standing up and heading through the curtain to the area behind the ring. In the stands, the audience was chattering excitedly amongst themselves. As he gazed up the steps to the ring, Ando felt a rush of exhilaration. Whoever his opponent was going to be, he was ready for them.

When the announcer called out his stage name, Ando climbed the steps up to the top of the platform, taking them two at a time. He was pleasantly surprised by the confidence he felt. When he reached the top and entered the ring, he was met with cheers louder than any he had received before. The sound brought him a fresh rush of self-assurance. He was ready for this fight, and he was going to win it!

“And in the red corner,” the announcer proclaimed, “Kensei the Unkillable!”

Even as the crowd went wild, it took a moment for the name to register with Ando. It was only when the all-too-familiar samurai strode into the ring, sword in hand, that Ando realized just how bad a situation he was in. Suddenly all of his confidence drained, and he was left standing in the corner of the ring, staring wide-eyed at his opponent. He was going to be facing Adam? But… Adam couldn't be killed! How was Ando supposed to win this match?!

“Let the match begin,” the announcer boomed as a cocky smirk spread over Adam's face.

Swallowing hard, Ando charged up a lightning attack. Making no move to step out of the way, Adam placed one hand on his hip and stared Ando down smugly. His other hand tightened its grip on his sword, which he let hang casually at his side. It was the stance of a man who knew that there was no way he could lose. Ando fired his attack anyway; Adam toppled over upon being struck only to get up and wipe soot off his jacket, unfazed. A low rabble filled the audience as he walked over to where Ando stood on the opposite side of the ring and pointed his sword directly at Ando's throat so that the tip of the blade just brushed against the skin of his neck.

“Aw, what a tough spot you find yourself in, eh?” he taunted. “But don't worry, I'm sure Carp will come along and--oh, wait, he's out of the picture now, isn't he?”

Narrowing his eyes, Ando kept his gaze locked on Adam's. If he could just keep him talking, then Adam wouldn't notice the sparks crackling at Ando's fingertips as he slowly raised his hands up toward the sword. Metal conducted electricity, after all. Healing powers or not, maybe Adam would stay down if Ando could pump his body full of just enough lightning.

“You may have killed Hiro, but I won't go down so easily,” Ando said. “I will take you down and avenge my friend!”

“Good luck with that,” Adam snorted. “If Carp was as easy to kill as he was, I hate to think of what his  _ sidekick _ could do to me. And Hiro  _ was _ easy to kill,” he went on, a mocking glint in his icy blue eyes. “Fun, too, to finally do that bugger in after all those centuries. He sure did scream a lot.”

Despite the fact that Adam was talking about alternate-Hiro and not Ando's Hiro, his words were still enraging. How could anyone talk about Hiro like that? Clenching his teeth, Ando let himself imagine for a moment that he was his alternate self, and had seen Adam kill Hiro firsthand. Alternatively, he tried to picture Adam as Elle after she had dealt Hiro a killing blow and not felt a single drop of remorse. He let the two events blur together in his mind until his rage brewed like a storm--a lightning storm.

As he grabbed hold of Adam's katana, he channeled all the anger from both versions of himself into the electricity which coursed from his hands down the length of the sword and into Adam.

Adam convulsed, his eyes rolling back in his head. The crowd let out a shocked gasp, and a sea of protests sprang up as smoke began to rise from his burnt skin. The red tint which had come over Ando's vision during his fight with Elle returned, and for a moment all he could see was bright crimson. Crimson like the colour of his lightning. Crimson like the colour of--

Ando tasted blood on his tongue as a fist connected with his face, knocking him backwards. Before he could regain his balance, Adam slashed at his right leg. A sharp burst of pain shot through Ando's leg as Adam's sword sliced it open, leaving a deep gash that ran from his thigh down to just below the knee. Dropping into a kneeling position, Ando clutched at his leg with a whimper. Adam stood over him, his blackened skin returning to its normal complexion, with a grin that could almost be described as skeletal.

“Nice trick,” he said. “But you knew that wasn't going to work, didn't you? Nothing you can do is going to hurt me.”

He swung his sword down at Ando, who blocked it with a lightning bolt just in time. The blast knocked Adam's blade out of his hands and it skittered across the ring until it lay a few feet away. Scowling, Adam kicked Ando in the ribs--an attack that Ando wasn't quite fast enough to avoid. Screaming at the splintering pain that was accompanied by the sickening crack of bone, Ando fell onto his side while Adam went to retrieve his sword. He was already getting dizzy from the blood loss in his leg, and he was pretty sure getting punched in the face had chipped a couple of his teeth. Combined with broken ribs, things definitely weren't looking up for him.

Ando may not have been the brightest guy alive, but he was no idiot. He could tell that he wasn't going to win. Only a couple minutes into the match, and he was already sprawled out on the ground in agony while his opponent didn't have a scratch on him. Then again, it would have been impossible for Adam to have a scratch on him; his power prevented him from retaining any amount of damage done to him. It was so unfair for a person with healing powers to be pitted against any person without them in a fight to the death. There was only ever really one possibility as to who the victor would be.

With one last surge of energy, Ando raised his hand and directed as powerful an attack as he could muster at Adam. Even if it was just prolonging the inevitable, it felt good to watch his opponent's body get fried. However, even as every fibre in Adam's body was shocked and burnt, he repaired himself and kept on walking toward Ando, sword outstretched. Eventually, Ando ran out of energy and flopped over, exhausted.

“You're really getting annoying,” Adam snarled. “Much as I'd like to have a bit more fun with you, I think I'll just finish this off right now.”

* * *

“Apparently nobody knows who did it,” the squadron leader had said of the graffiti which had appeared overnight on the side of the LA Stadium. “We've asked around about it, but nobody has any idea who was responsible.”

Narrowing his eyes, Matt leaned forward and placed his hand against the wall. His hand came away bright orange; the paint was still wet. He held it up to show his partner.

“This was recent,” he said. “Whoever did it might still be around.”

“What a vague message--‘be ready’,” Audrey mused. “What do you suppose it means?”

Matt didn't have a definitive answer for that, but part of him wondered if Claire could have been the one to spray-paint the message. During her visit to his house, she had certainly expressed a bit of anti-stadium sentiment. Plus, she was a teenager; it would make sense for her to be the rebellious type. Then again, this was  _ Claire _ he was thinking about. Surely such a sweet kid wouldn't commit an act of vandalism.

To be completely honest, Matt was none too fond of the stadiums either. As a person with powers himself, he didn't like the idea of having to fight somebody else like him. A lot of his fear regarding this particular hypothetical came from the knowledge that, if he was ever forced to enter the ring, he probably wouldn't last a minute out there. He just wasn't cut out to be much of a fighter. But even though he didn't have to worry about fights himself, the knowledge that people he cared about were in constant danger of being forced to fight each other to the death didn't sit well with him. At Elle's match a while back, watching Hiro meet a grisly fate in the ring… that was just terrible. Even if the guy had been a bit weird, Matt had liked Hiro. It felt strange to think that the chipper time-traveller wasn't around anymore.

However, there was also a deeper reason that he disliked setting foot in a stadium so much. When Claire had invited him and Mohinder to watch Elle’s match with her and some of their other acquaintances, part of him had wanted to ask her if she knew who exactly Elle had killed in her first official match. He got the feeling Claire didn’t know just what her girlfriend had taken from him on that day. He still remembered, clear as if it were yesterday, how loud he had screamed at the sight of his fianceé’s lifeless body coming to a staggering halt and dropping to the floor of the ring as other spectators had cheered.

If Matt had any say in it, all death matches would be made illegal.

Naturally, he had absolutely no say in it. He didn't make the rules, he just did his best to enforce them fairly (he liked to think he was a bit more fair about it than some of his colleagues, but that was a separate issue). He knew his coworkers probably wouldn't understand his issues with the stadiums, anyway. He was the only one with powers on his squadron, so nobody else there had to fear being inducted into the ring themselves one day. Matt did have to fear that. It probably wasn't very likely to happen, but the possibility distressed him nonetheless. If some kid wanted to write some words on a stadium wall, Matt figured they had every right to. Who knew? Maybe the graffiti wasn't even meant to be a threat. There were a lot of things that “be ready” could have meant.

Just then, a tall woman with bleached-blonde hair approached Matt and Audrey. “Hi, my name is Kimberly,” she said, giving the officers a smile and a wave. It was the kind of overacted cheerfulness that one might see in a summer camp counselor. “Could one of you officers help me out with something? It'll just take a moment.”

She stared directly at Matt as she said this. Matt noticed that she was keeping one hand behind her back. What was she hiding? Returning her gaze with intensity, Matt tilted his head and concentrated on reading her thoughts.

_ Come on, you stupid lug, _ he could hear her thinking.  _ Take the bait and your partner won't need to get hurt. _

He shivered as he picked up on her menacing internal monologue. Casting a glance toward his fellow officer, Matt stepped forward to stand between her and Kimberly, holding up his hand in a “stay back” gesture. Audrey was a deputy chief now, far outranking Matt, but he still felt obligated to protect anyone who may have been in danger. Keeping eye contact with Kimberly, he slowly began reaching for his gun.

“What is it you need help with, Ma’am?” he asked as he tightened his hand around his gun. “I'm sure I can be of some assistance.”

“Oh, I was just having some trouble with a couple of ruffians over there,” she said, pointing across the street to the run-down bike shop across the road. Standing around outside were a small cluster of young people dressed in countercultural styles; most of them weren't white, and several of their jackets were adorned with pride flag badges. A couple of them were smoking. “Do you think you could go over there and chase them away?”

Matt gritted his teeth. If Kimberly had been targeting one of his colleagues, her ruse probably would have worked, and that hurt to admit. Those kids across the road were exactly the type of people the police force loved to single out. However, he wasn't fooled that easily. Those people at the bike shop were just scapegoats to lure Matt away so that Kimberly could do whatever she planned to do with him.

Audrey stepped forward, placing her hands on her hips. “Ma’am, would you care to show me what you've got behind your back?”

Kimberly sneered and took her hand out from behind her back to reveal a sleek silver pistol, which she pointed at Audrey. She backed up, reaching for her own gun. Matt moved to stand in front of his coworker; he wouldn't let anybody get hurt who didn't have to.

“Now, Ma'am, please put down th--”

She pulled the trigger.


	18. Chapter 18

Between training sessions, Hiro stopped by the main area of the compound to see what the other fighters were up to. He wondered if he was expected to face off against any of them in his thankfully rescheduled match. He hoped not; most of the fighters were very intimidating. After learning about the trouble Johnson had gotten in after “letting” Peter get away, he was reluctant to teleport directly out of the ring. Instead, he planned to use the “freeze time; grab a fake bag of blood” method to fake his death in the ring and then teleport out of there.

The TV set in the compound was playing a live broadcast of a match at the Tokyo Stadium when Hiro walked in. The other fighters were clustered around the TV, watching intently. A muscular man pumped his arm in the air and let out a whoop as a slicing sound crackled through the TV’s antiquated speaker set. This was followed by a much louder isolated crackle; Hiro thought at first that it was the speakers acting up until one of the other fighters exclaimed, “Look at that lightning!”

Another fighter nudged the one who had spoken. “Pity he's going up against Kensei the Unkillable, eh?”

A knot of dread forming in his gut, Hiro stood on his tiptoes to peer over his fellow fighters’ shoulders at the TV screen. The distinctive sound of lightning gave him the sinking suspicion that he already knew who Adam was going up against this time. Sure enough, his fears were confirmed when he caught a glimpse of the TV screen and saw Ando, kneeling and clutching his leg in the corner of the ring. Hiro gasped when the camera zoomed in on his friend's leg, revealing a sickening gash which the announcer who was narrating the match excitedly described as “quite the nasty cut!”

_ It's just the alternate version, _ Hiro told himself as bile rose in his throat at the pixelated scene playing out before him.  _ It's not my Ando. _ But he couldn't really tell that for certain. The differences between this world and his own were staggering, but at the end of the day, the people were so similar. And even if it was the version from this world, what difference did it make? Hiro still had to help him! If he wasn't able to save his best friend, even an alternate version of him, what kind of hero would he be?

Behind Hiro, Agent Johnson stood with her arms crossed in front of her chest. Flashing her an apologetic glance, Hiro placed a hand on her arm and froze time so that they could talk alone for a moment. She wore a neutral expression. Hiro wasn't the best at interpreting faces, but when she spoke, there was something like defeat in her voice.

“That's your friend, isn't it?”

It sounded closer to a statement than a question. Hiro nodded, gulping. He knew that his agent would get in trouble if he took off, and he felt horrible about it, but he had no other choice. Saving Ando was always Hiro's priority. Johnson seemed to understand this too; Hiro had told her all about Ando and how much he cared about him during their talk the day before. In fact, at some point during that conversation, Hiro had begun to realize that those feelings ran even deeper than he had previously thought--or had previously been willing to acknowledge. That part didn’t make a difference at the moment, though. If and when Hiro and Ando were safely back together, then Hiro would be able to delve into the confusing emotions residing in his heart.

“I need to save him,” he said. “I can't… I can't let him die.”

“Well, you'd best hurry,” she said, nodding to the frozen image on the tv screen of Adam about to bring his sword down. Daphne--the version from his world--had once asked Hiro whether his stopping time affected the whole world, or just the area he was in. Looking at the tv, he desperately hoped it was the former. “Good luck,” Johnson added, shooting him a strained smile.

“I'm sorry,” Hiro mumbled.

He turned away from Johnson, unwilling to face her as he squeezed his eyes shut and focused on the Tokyo Stadium.

* * *

With her power still partially dulled by the drugs, Daphne got to LA far slower than she would have liked. She couldn’t speed-run for very long without getting tired, and at one point she stopped to grab breakfast at a coffee shop--without paying for it, obviously, since it wasn’t like she had her wallet with her. By the time she reached the city, it was mid-morning. Matt would probably be at work, meaning Daphne wouldn't have to drop by his house and see him with his--ugh--with his wife. The thought made Daphne’s stomach turn with jealousy. If things had turned out differently, she might have been the one he came home to each night. Even so, she held no real resentment for Janice. She was just glad that he was happy.

As she ran, she played out various scenarios in her mind of how their reunion might go. Her mind buzzed with anticipation, and her heart hammered as she imagined Matt's face when he saw her alive again. She pictured the way his eyes would light up and tried to imagine what the first thing he'd say would be. She guessed that there would be a bit of stunned silence first, during which she planned to say something cute and vaguely flirtatious--but not too flirtatious, she reminded herself, since he was already married. Just what she would say, she had yet to figure out, but she was sure she could come up with something on the fly. Doing things fast was her specialty, after all.

Daphne was so caught up in her fantasies that, when she reached the LA Stadium, she didn't notice the commotion outside, nor did she realize she had just run right past the man she was looking for. She generally didn't pay much attention to her surroundings while running, and at the moment she was entirely focused on her goal. However, just as she ran past the stadium, a gunshot rang out. Daphne skidded to a stop, turned on her heel, and zipped back over to the stadium. She noticed that it had been spray-painted with some sort of graffiti. Standing outside were two women, one wearing a suit and the other a police uniform. Between them lay a horrifyingly familiar figure. Another gunshot went off, and the woman in the suit toppled over with a shriek, clutching at her shoulder. A smoking gun fell from her hand as she hit the ground, right next to…

Bile rose in Daphne’s throat. Sprawled out motionless the ground a few feet away from the woman with the gun was none other than Matt himself. Breath catching in her throat, Daphne shoved the other officer aside and took Matt into her arms. Blood pooled around him as he stared blankly at the clouded sky, in which the sun was beginning to sink below the horizon. His chest rose and fell in short, ragged breaths. He didn't react as Daphne knelt over him, brushing her hand over his cheek in dismay. She wasn't sure if he even knew she was there.

“What happened here?” she demanded of the other officer, who looked just as shaken as Daphne felt. “Who did this?!”

“A-a strange woman showed up and started ordering us around,” she said. “I objected, and she was about to fire at me… Parkman took the bullet for me.”

“Did he now?” Daphne muttered

The officer nodded, gulping. Daphne sighed and shook her head in a sort of misplaced exasperation. It sounded like Matt, alright. That sentimental fool was always ready to take a bullet for somebody. She just wished he hadn't gone and done it before she'd even gotten the chance to say hello to him again.

“Hey, Matt,” she whispered, hoping he could hear her but knowing deep down that he almost certainly couldn't. “Guess who's back among the living? Bet you're surprised to see me, huh?”

Matt groaned, a thin trickle of blood running down from the corner of his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head. In the background, Daphne heard the other officer calling for medical help, but she didn't hear what they were saying. An ambulance would never get there fast enough. But maybe, just maybe, she could get him to a hospital in time.

“Help me lift him up,” Daphne commanded. “I've got to get him on his feet!”

The officer looked reluctant as she knelt down to help Daphne hoist Matt to his feet, but she didn't object. With her help, Daphne managed to scoop him up into a sort of clumsy bridal carry. With that, she took off down the street toward the nearest hospital, leaving the other officer in the dust. As she ran, she concentrated on how heavy Matt felt in her arms--he had a real, physical presence. He was  _ there. _ She ignored the blood soaking through his uniform and staining her shirt; she ignored the warmth slowly seeping from his body as she arrived at the hospital and burst through the doors.

Once at the hospital, she rushed inside and darted all the way up to a room on the second story, dodging the various staff and patients and ignoring their startled exclamations. Even the emergency room would be too slow--she needed him in a hospital bed right away. She laid Matt down on the first unoccupied bed she saw, much to the surprise of a nurse who was checking up on a patient in the room's other bed.

“Miss, what--?” the nurse began before Daphne cut her off. 

“This man needs medical attention,” she said. “He got shot. Can you help him?”

The nurse's eyes widened in alarm as she looked Matt over. Daphne held her breath, heart skipping a beat when she noticed that the rise and fall of Matt's chest had come to a complete standstill. A moment later, the nurse looked up at Daphne and shook her head sadly.

“I'm sorry,” she said quietly. “He's gone.”

“What? No!” Daphne cried, grabbing Matt by the shoulders and shaking him desperately back and forth. “Matt? Matt, come on, you're fine! Get up!”

She couldn't have been too late! She was so  _ fast _ \--that was her whole thing--surely Daphne hadn't gotten to the hospital too late! Tears pricked at her eyes as she leaned over Matt and cupped his head in her trembling hands. She  _ couldn't  _ have been too late. It just wasn't fair.

The nurse pulled her away with a surprising amount of force as Daphne broke down in tears. She scribbled something down in her notebook with a frown, giving Daphne a moment to collect herself before speaking up.

“What happened to him?” she inquired. “Do you know who…?”

“I didn't see it happen,” Daphne mumbled, still stunned and unable to tear her eyes away from Matt’s motionless form. “And, uh, the person who did it has been taken care of.”

The nurse lowered her gaze. “Ma’am, would you mind waiting outside for a moment?” she asked. “I think I might recognize this man. I need to make a few phone calls.”

Daphne was reluctant to leave Matt's side, but she complied and went to sit outside in a chair next to a family who was waiting to visit a sick grandparent. The parents held hands as they answered their children's inquiries, doing their best to provide some reassurance even though nobody was in any place to provide it. The sight sickened Daphne to her core. How could people be so deceptive? Even when somebody was dying, people would lie about it--to kids, to the person’s loved ones, even to the dying person themself. Now, as she restlessly jiggled her legs up and down while flipping through some old sports magazine she couldn't have cared less about, she almost wished someone would lie to her about Matt. She knew it wouldn't make him any less dead, but it would hurt less if she could believe otherwise. And, as much as she hated being lied to, it hurt to know the truth.

* * *

The crowd cheered as Adam drew his sword back and prepared to thrust it forward. Standing off to the side, Adam's agent goaded him on while Takeda averted his eyes. The elderly Osakan’s praise echoed in Ando's mind as the blade swung towards him.  _ I'm sorry that I couldn't win this fight, _ he thought.  _ I'm sorry to have let you down. _

What an idiot he had been to ever think that he didn't need Hiro. He needed Hiro desperately, now more than ever. He… he  _ loved _ Hiro, he always had, and yet he had only realized his own feelings after it was too late. But Hiro wasn't alive to come to his rescue. This was the end of the line. At least now they could be together in the afterlife, if such a thing existed. If it didn't… well, Ando tried not to think about that. He closed his eyes and waited for the finishing blow.

Over the dull throbbing in his leg and the sharp pain from his broken ribs, it took Ando a moment to register the pain as the sword slid into his gut. He heard a  _ schlick, _ and felt cold steel against his skin. He let out a quiet gasp, disturbed by the sensation of the blade entering his body. Unfortunately, the painlessness didn't last long. Adam twisted his blade a bit as he pushed it further into Ando's gut, and an unbearable surge of pain shot through him. As bile and blood rose in his throat, he got the awful feeling that something important had just been punctured.

This all happened in the span of a second or two as Adam stabbed him. Then, in that very instant, something odd happened. There was a sound--a very familiar sound--from right behind Ando. It was a sound he would recognize anywhere, but one he'd never thought he'd hear again: the sound of Hiro teleporting. As the crowd let out a collective gasp, a pair of gentle arms wrapped around Ando. Then all of a sudden, the noise of the crowd disappeared and the sword wasn't buried in his stomach anymore.

The first thought to enter Ando's mind as he vanished from the ring was:  _ am I dead? _ But then why did he still hurt so much? Groaning, he blinked open his eyes. Looking around, he realized that he was in his own apartment (or, wait, was it the alternate version of his apartment?) Hovering anxiously over him, holding him in his arms, was a face Ando had never thought he would see again.

“H…” Coughing up a bit of blood, Ando struggled to prop himself up only for his injured leg to give out. He collapsed back into Hiro's arms. “Hiro, is that you?”

“It's me,” Hiro murmured. “Ando, are you…?”

“I'm okay,” Ando lied.

Hiro smiled--a pained smile. He could probably tell just by looking that Ando was in pretty bad shape. As Ando stared up at him, Hiro's face blurred in and out of focus. Why was Hiro there?  _ How  _ was Hiro there? He was supposed to be dead. Maybe his first thought had been correct, then, and they were both dead. But no, if this were an afterlife, Ando wouldn't have still been in so much pain.

However, even as he thought this, the hurting began to subside. The twisting agony in his stomach where Adam had stabbed him was diminishing to a dull ache, and the rest of him felt almost numb. He was relieved that the pain was fading at first until he realized that his senses were fading too. The sharp taste of blood in the back of his mouth was almost undetectable now, his vision was blurry and tinged with red around the edges, and he was having trouble processing what Hiro was saying to him. It was like there was a lag between his brain and his body, and that lag was worsening.  _ Crap,  _ he thought.  _ I'm not dead yet, but I'm dying _ .

With a jolt of panic, Ando grabbed Hiro's hand and held onto it like it was his lifeline. “Help me,” he pleaded, his voice coming out as a low gurgle. “I don't want to die!”

“You won't,” Hiro promised. Ando felt something wet splash onto his cheek--was Hiro crying? “I won't let you.”

Even if it was an empty promise, the words comforted Ando. He felt safe and secure in Hiro's arms--Hiro, who was somehow alive, and Ando couldn't even bring his body to move so that he could embrace his friend. He wanted to pull Hiro into a hug so tight they both had trouble breathing. Then, after they pulled away, he wanted to ask Hiro a million questions about how he was alive and what he had done between his death at the New York Stadium and his sudden reappearance. He wanted to tell Hiro what he had managed to figure out during their separation--what he should have realized long ago, if he were smarter: that he loved him. But, for now, it was enough to simply let Hiro hold him. Relaxing deeper into his friend's tender grasp, Ando struggled to keep his eyes open. Darkness lapped at the edges of his consciousness. He was exhausted, and he hurt, and he wanted to stop hurting. It would be so nice to just go to sleep…

As his grip on Hiro's hand loosened, Ando heard Hiro say something. He sounded very urgent, but Ando couldn't quite make out what he was saying. As Ando let his eyes fall shut, his grip on Hiro's hand loosened. Hiro’s panicked voice faded into the background and then into nothingness as Ando lapsed into unconsciousness.


	19. Chapter 19

“Ando? Ando!” Hiro's brow furrowed in distress as his friend's body went limp. “Please… stay with me!”

There was no response. The faint, irregular rise and fall of Ando's chest was the only indication that he was still alive. Hiro's hands were wet and sticky with his blood. Swallowing hard, Hiro tightened his grip on Ando and teleported them to the emergency room of a hospital.

The following few hours were absolute torture for Hiro. He paced back and forth in the waiting room, mindlessly flipping through magazines to keep his mind off the fact that Ando's fate was currently up in the air, and there was nothing he could do about it. If he died… Hiro didn't know what he would do. He couldn't help thinking it would be on his conscience somehow. He should have gotten to the stadium a little quicker, should have taken them to the hospital in the first place instead of taking them to the apartment, should have…

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor came out holding a clipboard and looking grim. “Nakamura-san?” the doctor said. “I have some news on your friend.”

Immediately, Hiro's throat clenched up and he held his breath. He stared up at the doctor, positively terrified of what he was going to say. At his sides, his hands involuntarily balled up into fists. Was Ando…?!

“He's in pretty bad shape, but he's going to live,” the doctor said. “You said you got him out of danger just as he was being stabbed?”

Hiro nodded, although he scarcely heard the question. His mind locked onto the first part of what the doctor said--Ando was going to live. The relief that coursed through him was tremendous, and the breath he let out was laced with tears springing up in his eyes.

“Well, congratulations, Nakamura-san,” the doctor said, clapping Hiro on the shoulder. “You most likely saved his life.”

At that, the relief (and disbelief, because could he really be so lucky after all the terrible luck he'd had since coming to this alternate universe?) manifested in the form of a giddy grin that plastered itself across his face. He set down the magazine he'd been holding and wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Can I go see him?” he asked.

The doctor pursed his lips and shook his head. “Afraid not,” he said. “I'll give you a call when he's ready for visitors.”

Hiro was disappointed, but he didn't argue. He wasn't so sure that he wanted to see Ando in such a state, anyway. It was… discomforting, to see someone he loved in a frail and helpless condition. As he was leaving the hospital, he wondered where he was supposed to go. He couldn't go back to the stadium--he could never face such an awful place again--and he got the feeling that Claire's house was still off-limits. He could go back to Ando's apartment, he supposed, or he could find the alternate version of another of his friends and see if they'd let him stay at their place. The shape of his future was still ambiguous; he had no idea if getting back to his own reality was even an option. Living the rest of his life in this world didn't appeal to him at all, but if he and Ando were together, Hiro was sure that they could make it work.

While Hiro was roaming directionlessly through the streets of Tokyo, a blur appeared over the horizon and rushed toward him. Hiro jumped back, startled, as Daphne came to a skidding halt next to him and slammed her fist into the wall of a building. She let out a frustrated yell as blood from her knuckles dripped down the wall.

“Catwoman?” Hiro asked, the old nickname springing up naturally even after not having used it for years. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I figured it was either here or my old house in Kansas,” she muttered, not turning to look at Hiro as she talked to him. “I'm not going back to that stadium, that's for damn sure.”

“I don't know where I'm going to go from here either,” Hiro told her. With a twinge of concern at how upset she looked, he asked, “Are you hungry? We could go get something to eat.”

“No thanks,” she said. “I don't have much of an appetite right now.”

“Well, that's okay.” Hiro gave her a somewhat awkward pat on the arm. It broke his heart to see her looking so distressed, but he didn't know how to best go about comforting her, or even what was upsetting her to begin with.

There was a moment of silence, during which Daphne muttered curses under her breath and kicked the wall repeatedly before sighing and turning to look at Hiro. He noticed tear stains on her cheeks, but decided not to comment on them. Somebody as guarded as Daphne wasn't likely to open up easily about what had happened to make her cry.

“Anyway, I see you got out of the stadium too,” she said. “Did they finally let you go, or did you escape?”

"I escaped," he told her, only to realize a moment later that the opposite was true. "Actually, my agent let me go. She said I had to hurry to save Ando."

"You had to save Ando?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. “What happened?”

“I saw on the TV set that Ando was in trouble,” he explained. “I went to go save him, but by the time I got there…”

Daphne's eyes widened. “Aw, geez, Pikachu, that's rough,” she interjected before he could finish his thought. Then, after a beat: “I guess we were both a little too slow.”

“Oh, no, Ando is alive,” Hiro clarified. “But he got hurt badly. He's in the hospital now.” Then what Daphne had just said caught up with him, and he narrowed his eyes. “Wait… both of us were too slow? What were you too slow for?"

Daphne was silent. It took him a moment, but something clicked in Hiro's mind, and he realized.  _ Oh, no, _ he thought with a twisting sensation in his gut.  _ Did something happen to Matt? _

"I'm sorry," he said after a pause, unsure whether his guess was correct but knowing that  _ something  _ must have happened for Daphne to be so distraught.

"Yeah, well," she muttered wryly. "Aren't we all?"

* * *

“So, I was thinking I could take this course on social justice and equality…” Claire tapped her college brochure with her pencil to point to the courses she had highlighted. “...And this course on the history of people with powers.”

Nathan nodded, drumming his pen on the table, where stacks of papers were strewn haphazardly amongst a sea of writing utensils. He and Claire were sitting down together at the kitchen table to plan out Claire's future. Although he had at first been expectedly resistant to what she had told him about what she planned to do, he had come around before long and was now helping her to lay out a more cohesive life map which went into more specifics than just “try to bring down the stadium business”. He had even offered her some resources she could contact to learn more about stadiums and who ran them. Even though Nathan's initial reaction had been largely negative, especially concerning Claire's admittance to not having been attending college, it felt good to have things out in the open between them. Nathan was never going to be a perfect father, but keeping him in the dark about things had clearly done nothing to improve their relationship. She hadn't told him about spray-painting the side of the LA Stadium, however. That, she felt her father didn't need to know.

“Now, what do you plan to do with those degrees other than political activism?” he asked. “If you want to hold large-scale protests, you'll need money, and for that you'll need a real job.”

“Well, I was thinking maybe I could go into biology,” Claire admitted. She flipped through the brochure until she reached the page on their science programs. “It ties in with the study of superhuman abilities, right? That's something.”

“Biology is hard--a lot of memorization,” Nathan told her, pursing his lips as he took the brochure into his own hands for a minute to read the page. “Are you sure you can handle it on top of your other courses?”

Claire wasn't as sure about that as she could have been, but if she applied herself, she was fairly certain she could manage to get a degree in biology. The other courses would definitely aid her in what she planned to do later on down the road, but if she could get a part-time job as a biologist… wait, what kinds of jobs did one get with a biology degree, anyway? That was something else she would have to look into. Sighing, she pushed herself back from the table and got up to get some orange juice. She needed a break from life mapping.

While she poured herself a glass of juice, she checked her phone for any new messages. During the week and a half since Claire's trip to LA, she had kept in touch with Hiro, who had apparently been brought back to life after dying and had been forced to fight in an underground stadium. He had told her all he knew about the operation--which admittedly wasn't much, as he said that his agent hadn't been allowed to give out much information--and Claire had written this information down in an old journal, which she'd only filled in the first few pages of as a child and had since rebranded as her future-planning journal. She had also gotten into contact with Mohinder, and had even struck up a connection with Niki, who confessed to also desperately wanting to leave the ring for good. Niki reported that her husband DL and especially her son Micah were also showing an interest in political activism. Claire had replied half-jokingly that if she found a few more people to support her cause, she just might have an army on her side someday.

Of course, not everything was going well for Claire, or for anyone. She'd tried contacting Matt a few times, but after a few texts with no reply, she had received a text from his number from Janice saying that Matt had been killed on the job. The tragic news was made worse by the fact that this had apparently occurred the day after Claire had left LA. If she had been there, maybe she could have stopped it. Then again, maybe there was nothing she could have done. Either way, it was too late now to change things. Claire just had to keep moving forward and trying to find allies wherever she could.

Now, upon opening up her phone, Claire was pleased to discover that Hiro had indeed texted her. His message read:  _ “How's my favourite political activist doing? :D I found out about a great new social issues program they're offering at Tokyo University if you're interested.” _ Claire texted him back politely telling him that she preferred to remain in America; he replied a few minutes later saying that he had kind of figured that would be her response but he'd wanted to put it out there anyway.

Chewing her lip, Claire typed out another message:  _ “Is Ando doing any better?” _ However, as her thumb hovered over the “send” button, she decided it was too personal and she backspaced until the question disappeared. She guessed that Hiro wasn't too eager to discuss his friend's wellbeing. From what she could tell from the little he had told her combined with news reports on the incident at the Tokyo Stadium, he blamed himself for not having gotten to the ring in time to stop Ando from being hurt. She hadn't heard anything on the extent of Ando's injuries, but apparently he'd been hospitalized, and Hiro hadn't informed Claire as to whether or not his friend had woken up at all during that time.

Hiro didn't know that Claire knew he was from a different universe, and she didn't think he was planning to tell her anytime soon. She assumed that once Ando was back on his feet, they'd go back to looking for a way home to their own reality. It sucked that they wouldn't be in her life anymore, but at least those versions of them were alive. If they randomly disappeared one day, Claire would try not to take it too hard.

Claire set her phone down on the countertop and went back to the table to look at a brochure for another college. This one was located in California, and it offered a wide range of courses. Apparently it was renowned for its science division, with professors who were leading experts in their fields. The cost of residence was a lot more manageable than those for the New York colleges she had been looking into, but the tuition was a bit steeper. However, when she did some quick calculations in her head, she found that the combined cost for the California college was cheaper overall.

As Claire skimmed through their brochure, she scribbled down some notes in her planning journal. Although they didn't offer any courses specifically on people with powers, she guessed that powers would be discussed in one of their higher-level genetics courses. Plus, it looked like they offered a pretty well-paying co-op program. And as for their recreational facilities…

Claire turned the page to see a full-page image of a blonde girl in a light blue tank top, apparently out for a jog. For a moment, she mistook the girl in the photo for Elle, and her heart leapt into her throat. Then she rubbed her eyes and looked again. It wasn't Elle--of course it wasn't. Sighing, Claire flipped to another page. Hiro had told her that he hadn't seen Elle at the underground compound. That probably meant that she wasn't one of the fighters Linderman had brought back. Elle was most likely gone for good, and Claire was just going to have to learn to live with it.

In retrospect, her relationship with Elle probably hadn't been very good for her. As much as she missed her girlfriend, she had to admit that Elle’s overall impact on her life had been negative. Now that she was gone, Claire had nothing tying her to a life of death battles and lying to her father. It was liberating not to feel any obligation to set foot in a stadium ever again. Even so, she missed her girlfriend. It was so unfair that Ando got Hiro back, but Claire didn't get Elle back.

On the page Claire had flipped to, there was some information about how the school welcomed diversity. One of the pictures underneath the informational blurb caught Claire's eye. It was of a tall brunette girl holding up a bi pride flag. She wore a nerdy t-shirt, and her face was screwed up with laughter. Despite herself, Claire blushed upon seeing the photo. She felt that odd tug again--like in another world, she belonged with the girl in that photo.  _ Well, _ she thought, a faint smile tugging at her lips,  _ maybe if I go to this college, our paths can cross in this world too. _

Things weren't perfect. They would never be perfect--not in this world, and not in any world. But, for the first time in a long time, Claire felt pretty good.

* * *

One day, while Hiro was visiting Ando at the hospital, an elderly man in a business suit walked in holding a get-well card. He set the card down on the bedside table and pulled up a chair to sit next to Hiro at Ando's bedside. Hiro didn't know who the man was until he spoke up, at which point he was surprised to recognize his thick Osakan drawl.

“Yer Hiro, ain't ya?”

Somewhat startled that the Osakan knew who he was, Hiro nodded. Although he had only met this man once before, and had then perceived him as a potential threat, he hardly seemed malicious… but impressions could be deceiving. The Osakan smiled and clapped Hiro on the shoulder. It was an oddly friendly gesture for a man who was dressed in such a formal style.

“In that case, I guess I oughta thank ya,” he said. “I heard Masahashi here owes ya his life.”

Hiro looked back at Ando, who was currently unconscious. Although his condition was stable and the doctors assured Hiro he was recovering, Hiro still felt a pang of worry every time he saw his friend looking so weak. If he had just gotten him out of the ring a few seconds earlier, this could have been prevented. And if he had been a few seconds  _ later _ … Hiro suppressed a shudder as he recalled what the doctors had told him. Apparently, if the sword had travelled just a couple centimetres further, Ando's wound would have been fatal. As it was, Ando had suffered heavy internal bleeding. It was far too close a call for Hiro's comfort. He supposed that the Osakan was right; Hiro had saved Ando's life, albeit narrowly. But he didn't feel like he deserved praise for it. He'd just done what he had to, and even then he had very nearly failed.

“Name's Takeda, by the way,” the Osakan said, extending his hand for Hiro to shake. Hiro kept his hand in his lap; he didn't know whether or not Takeda was trustworthy. “I'm yer buddy’s agent. Or I  _ was  _ his agent, anyway,” he went on, not seeming to mind that Hiro rejected his offer of a handshake. “I doubt the poor kid’ll wanna get back into the ring again. In fact, I reckon yer both still looking to go home.”

“How much did Ando tell you about me?” Hiro inquired.

“Well, I know yer from another universe, if that's what yer asking,” Takeda chuckled. “I take it this version of ya didn't get yer head chopped off, eh? Anyways, I can get ya home.”

Hiro blinked, stunned, at Takeda’s casual revelation.

“You can get us home?” he echoed. “Back to our reality?”

Takeda nodded. “Whaddaya say, kid?” he asked. “Once Masahashi is back on his feet, do ya want me to take the two of ya back to yer own world?”

“I-I…” Hiro stammered, eyes widening as he took in the weight of Takeda’s offer. They could go home?  _ We can go home! _ “Yes! Yes, take us home, please!”

He thought for a moment about how good it would be to return to the reality he belonged in. No more death battles, no more feeling so out of place among people from a world he didn't belong in… and best of all, all his friends still alive and happy.  _ Well, _ he corrected himself as he thought of a playful smirk and a flash of short platinum-blonde hair,  _ not  _ all  _ my friends. _

From what he had heard, this universe's Daphne had gone back to living at her old house in Kansas with her father. She told Hiro she was happy there, but he had trouble believing her. He had an idea, though, about a life that just might make her happier. Without constantly having to worry about Linderman’s agents tracking her down, Daphne would no doubt be able to have a better life in the world Hiro was from. He could also think of a certain detective in his world who would be overjoyed to see her again.

* * *

When Hiro popped into Daphne’s living room, she was sitting on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest, simultaneously watching TV and scrolling through her phone without really paying attention to either. She glanced up at Hiro with surprise when he entered, but went right back to looking at her phone. She guessed that he had come to cheer her up again, but she wasn't in the mood for that right now. Frowning, Hiro walked over and grabbed the phone out of her hand. She made a face at him but didn't make any move to grab it back. That would make him think that she was playing into the old game of their friendly rivalry when really she was just so damn tired.

“What's your problem?” she muttered.

“I'm here to ask you something very important,” Hiro told her. “When we were in the underground complex together, you figured out that I'm from a different reality. As I'm sure you know, in my reality you're dead… and Matt is alive.”

Daphne stared at him blankly, wondering what he was getting at--just rubbing it in, maybe? Didn't seem likely coming from him, but… “Yeah, and?”

“Well, you know how in the modern-era  _ Doctor Who _ , how Rose’s parents--”

“Gonna stop you right there, Pikachu,” she said. “I know nothing about that show.”

“Okay, so…" Hiro cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses with a little bounce on his heels. Daphne groaned internally, bracing herself for the inevitable infodump. “In the show, Rose’s mom was alive and her dad was dead. Then they went to an alternate universe where both of Rose’s parents were alive. But then there was a Cyberman attack in that universe, and the alternate Jackie--that's Rose’s mom’s name--was one of the people who died. Later on, Rose and her mom went to live in that alternate universe with Pete--that's the dad--and they got to be a family again. Of course, it wasn't really Rose’s choice to get stuck in that alternate universe, but…”

“Okay, I just zoned most of that out,” Daphne said. “But I think I see what you're getting at. You want me to go with you and Ando and live in your reality.”

Grinning, Hiro bobbed his head up and down. Daphne sighed and shook her head. It was sweet of him to want to give her a better life, but she had no place in his universe. In fact, if she had died in that world even earlier than she had in this one, maybe she just wasn't supposed to be alive at all.

“Listen, Hiro, it's a nice offer,” she said. “But I belong here. And Matt… I guess he belongs with his wife.”

“I see,” Hiro sighed. Regret flashed in his eyes, but he didn't object to her choice. “I suppose I had best be going, then.”

He took a step back and closed his eyes, preparing to teleport away.  _ Good,  _ Daphne thought.  _ Go be happy. Stop wasting your time on me _ . That was the way it should be. She was nobody's concern but her own, and that was how she liked it. Wasn't it?

Maybe, now that she thought about it, it wasn't. And who knew? Maybe Hiro's universe could make room for her after all.

“Wait,” Daphne blurted. Hiro opened his eyes back up and gave her an expectant look. “Just because I belong in this world doesn't mean it's the one I want to stay in,” she said. “Besides, you need a nemesis, right?”

Hiro broke into a wide grin. He pulled Daphne up off the couch and into a hug, which caught her very off guard. Hugging was something friends did. Her and Hiro--were they friends?

_ Yeah,  _ she decided, a slow smile spreading across her face as she playfully ruffled his hair.  _ Yeah, I guess we are. _


	20. Chapter 20

The first time Ando woke up, Hiro was sitting right next to his bed, holding his hand. Ando barely had time to turn his head to smile at Hiro before Hiro jumped up and pulled him into a tight, fierce embrace which he held for a long time. Hiro's arms squeezed Ando's now-healing but still broken ribs and a sharp jolt of pain shot through him. He winced, letting out a yelp. Hiro instantly let go of him and sat back down, eyes wide with guilt.

"Sorry, sorry! I just…” He rubbed tears from his eyes, a sentimental smile plastered over his face. “I'm so glad you're finally awake.”

Hiro came back several more times over the next few days; the nurses told Ando that he'd been dropping by constantly since he'd been hospitalized. Sometimes Hiro brought flowers, which seemed a little unnecessary to Ando, but he appreciated the gesture greatly (and tried not to overthink it, because for all of Hiro's nerdiness, he probably wasn't well-versed in flower language. All the red roses, tulips, and chrysanthemums were probably just a coincidence).

The day that Ando was finally discharged from the hospital, Hiro told him in an excited babble about Takeda’s agreement to take them home. He then grabbed Ando by the wrist and took him to the parking lot outside the Tokyo Stadium. There, Takeda was waiting for them, leaning calmly up against a parking meter. Ando was more than a bit surprised to see Daphne there as well, pacing anxiously up and down the rows of empty parking spaces.

Takeda’s face lit up when Hiro and Ando got there. “Heya, kid,” he said with a wave. “Good to see ya back on yer feet.”

“I'm just glad to be alive,” Ando admitted. “If it weren't for Hiro, I'd have been toast.”

He blinked gratefully at Hiro, who was bouncing up and down on his heels again. Clearly, Hiro was very excited to finally be returning to the universe where he belonged, and Ando shared that sentiment. Almost having died twice in as many months didn't sit well with him, and having been separated from Hiro for so long was even worse. Sure, they got into danger often enough in their own world, but being together always made the danger more tolerable.

“Now, I want y’all to hold hands,” Takeda said, beckoning Daphne over. “This is probably gonna feel a bit strange, so be ready.”

Nodding, Hiro took Ando's hand while Ando put his other hand in Takeda’s. Daphne held Takeda’s other hand and reached out as though to take Hiro's hand as well but dropped her free hand away and stuffed it in her pocket at the last second. Takeda took a few deep breaths, then closed his eyes. A faint glow began to emanate from him, and then that glow spread to the others. There was a bright flash of light, and for a moment Ando felt like all the blood had just rushed to his head. To ground himself, he squeezed Hiro's hand. It felt reassuringly soft and warm. The memory of Hiro's body being cold and stiff grew more distant with every passing day. Nobody could guarantee that nothing bad would happen to them ever again--in fact, a lot of bad things were very likely to happen to them, and those bad things would always keep happening. But for now, at least, Hiro was alive, and he was right there next to Ando. And that was just the way it should have been.

The world around them seemed to shimmer and distort like a reflection in a lake when somebody tossed a rock into the water. As the “ripples” dissipated, their surroundings changed. The stadium vanished, and in its place was Hiro's apartment complex. The parking lot, which had been empty since there wasn't a match going on, filled up with cars belonging to those who lived at the apartment. Ando recognized one of the cars as belonging to a sweet older woman who lived across the hall from Hiro. As he looked around the familiar location, a slow grin spread across his face.

They were back in their reality.

The glow surrounding the four of them faded, and a couple of the creases on Takeda’s wrinkled face deepened. With a pang of concern, Ando remembered his agent's remark about how he rarely used his power anymore, and wondered if that was why. Did using his power put some sort of drain on his life force? If so, Takeda didn't seem to mind. He opened his eyes, smiling, and gave Ando an affirming pat on the shoulder.

“Now, stay safe out there,” he said. “Ya hear me, kid?”

“Don't worry,” said Hiro, putting a protective arm around Ando's waist. “I'll look after him.”

“Hey, I can take care of myself,” Ando protested.

Hiro leaned his head on Ando’s shoulder and squeezed his hand. “Sure you can,” he singsonged. Then, growing serious, he said, “You're right, Ando. You  _ can _ take care of yourself--we both can. I just like protecting you.”

“I like protecting you, too,” Ando said, ruffling Hiro's hair. “I'm glad to have you in my life.”

Off to the side, Daphne made an exaggerated gagging noise at the sentimental scene playing out before her. Hiro shook his head and made a  _ tsk-tsk _ noise at her; she rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. She then flashed Hiro and Ando a brief grateful smile before turning on her heel and running away in a blur. As Daphne vanished out of sight, Ando turned back to say goodbye to his former agent and thank him for everything he had done. However, the spot where the elderly Osakan had stood a moment before was now empty. Takeda was nowhere to be found.

While in the alternate universe, Ando hadn't given much thought to what his and Hiro's sudden disappearance must have seemed like to their friends in their own world. Now that they were back, they were forced to deal with the repercussions of their absence. The two of them had been gone for nearly three whole months with no hint of where they could have been, after all. Their coworkers at Yamagato demanded to know why they had been absent from work without leave. Kimiko was furious at them for making her worry about them, and after pulling them into her office and cussing them both out, she told Hiro to leave so she could talk to Ando privately. Ando was fairly certain she was going to break up with him again, and somehow he didn't dread it nearly as much as he would have thought.

“Don't  _ ever _ take off like that again,” she hissed as soon as Hiro had left the room. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?!”

“I'm sorry,” Ando mumbled, unsure of what exactly to say. “I didn't--Hiro never meant to take us where he did.”

“I know,” Kimiko sighed. “I just… I do care about you, you know.” She paused, a vaguely guilty expression covering her face, before adding: "You're like family to me."

"Family?" Ando echoed quietly, and now that he really thought about it, that label felt right. Maybe better than  _ boyfriend and girlfriend. _ It definitely fit more comfortably than  _ future husband and wife. _ He let out a breath, and was a bit surprised to find that it came out as a sigh of relief.

Kimiko smiled, with only the tiniest traces of regret visible around the corners of her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I just don't think our relationship is going to work out."

"Me neither," Ando agreed. Although they had broken up several times before, he got the feeling that this time would be more permanent. "So… friends, then?"

She nodded, and the last traces of apprehension vanished from her face as Ando returned her smile. It felt like a huge weight had just been lifted off his chest, and he was sure she felt the same. Then, sitting down in her office chair, she beckoned him to sit with her.

“Where did you say Hiro took you again--some parallel universe?” she asked.

“Yeah, it was crazy,” Ando told her. He sat down on top of Kimiko’s desk; she gave him a sideways look but didn't object. “You see, it started when Claire gave Hiro the idea to experiment with his powers…”

* * *

The following few days of being back in their own universe were filled up with more apologies for having been gone so long, and explanations of what had happened for those who would believe them. A few of their friends wanted to know what they had been like in the alternate universe. They got a lot of demands such as “But why would I have ended up that way?” and “So how did I die, exactly?” While Hiro and Ando answered all these questions as best they could, there were some questions that were harder to answer in a satisfying way. They didn't know everything about the dimension they had gone to, and parts of that reality would most likely always remain shrouded in mystery. Perhaps some things simply weren't meant to be known.

There was one thing, though, that Hiro knew without a doubt: that it was good to finally be back. After everything they had gone through, both of them were lucky to be alive. Now, it seemed almost as though the universe--or maybe the multiverse, considering that multiple realities were at play--was rewarding them for making it through everything by giving them a good ending.

“What happened to my alternate self?” Claire asked at one point while they were out grocery shopping together. “Did I--did she… turn out okay?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Hiro admitted. “But I think your alternate self is doing better than she was before.”

Claire scrunched her nose up in thought as she examined two plush cats which were on display next to the birthday card section of the store. Her basket didn't have much in the way of food in it yet, but Hiro didn't bother trying to keep her on track. In fact, he was just as captivated with the plushies as she was, if not more so. One had big, sparkly eyes and an oversized head to the point where it strayed away from cuteness and into creepy territory; the other was more realistically proportioned and was made of a softer material. Hiro certainly knew which plush he would pick if it was up to him. Eventually, after squeezing both plushies and giving them one last look over, Claire placed both of them in her basket.

“You know, I've been thinking a lot about what you said to me before you left,” she said as they moved on to perusing the seafood aisle. “About people wanting to protect me.”

Hiro perked up, eager to hear what conclusions his friend had come to. “You have?”

“Yeah…” Claire swung her basket back and forth as she walked. “I guess I get why people worry about me. Hell,  _ I _ don't like it when I get hurt, and I can't even feel pain anymore.”

“Nobody likes seeing people they care about suffer,” Hiro agreed.

He thought again of how close he had come to losing Ando--and how, for a little over a month, Ando had effectively lost him. His friend didn't talk much about how he'd gotten on without Hiro, and Hiro didn't want to pry too much, but he hated to think that his temporary death had caused a deterioration in his friend's mental health. He never wanted to be the cause of Ando's suffering, even indirectly. (He had yet to mention his newfound feelings, either, and was kind of hoping that Ando would catch on and bring it up first so that Hiro wouldn’t have to.)

“Hey, there's a sale on shrimp,” Claire observed, pulling Hiro from his introspection. She held up a carton for him to see. “Ten pounds for eight dollars. Do you think I should buy some?”

“Hmm… that's a lot,” Hiro said, frowning slightly at the sale price tag. “Can you eat them all by then?”

“I don’t know,” Claire muttered, staring intently at the shrimp as though the world depended on her decision. She glanced up at Hiro, a glint in her eye. “Say, I've never tested what happens when I eat expired food,” she said. “So even if they do go bad, I have a use for them.”

Hiro winced at the mention of her experiments. Part of him still wished she would stop conducting them. However, he knew it wasn't her place to tell her what to do. Claire was a young woman with agency, and if she wanted to continue her experiments, that was her choice. Still, the whole thing made Hiro very uncomfortable. What were the chances of someone ever trying to poison her with expired seafood? What purpose would this particular test ever serve apart from being another excuse for Claire to harm herself?

“I need to keep doing my experiments, you know,” she said, almost as if she could tell what Hiro was thinking. “Testing the limits of my powers could save my life one day. Or it could save someone else's life. It's not like I do it just because I like hurting myself.”

Unsure of exactly how to respond, Hiro nodded slowly. Claire had explained her reasoning before, so none of this was news to him, but there was something puzzling about the way she was saying it now. It sounded almost like she was talking to herself as much as to him.

Claire turned to look back at the display of seafood. One glass case over from them, lobsters scuttled futilely around, searching for an impossible escape. It reminded Hiro of his first few attempts to get out of the parallel universe. Had it not been for Takeda, things may not have worked out any better for him and Ando than they would for the lobsters. A tiny sigh escaped from Claire's lips as she stood in the middle of the seafood aisle.

“On second thought, I'm not big on seafood anyway,” she said. “Plus, I'm never going to be able to eat all those before they expire.”

Hiro tilted his head. “But I thought you were going to--”

“Well, I changed my mind,” she said. “I mean, there's only so much shrimp a girl can eat, right?”

“Oh!” Hiro perked up as he put together what Claire was saying. “You aren't going to test your powers anymore?”

“Well, I don't know if I should stop entirely, but yeah,” she said. “I… I think you were right, Hiro. I think everyone was right. I don't need to keep running these tests on myself, at least not as much as I have been.”

Hiro smiled and clapped Claire on the shoulder. “I think you're making a good choice,” he told her. “Now, let's go pick out some vegetables.”

As they headed over to the produce section, Hiro wondered if he should experiment any more with his own power. It would be fun, of course, to see just how far through space and time he could go, but now that he thought about it, deliberately travelling to dangerous locations or time periods was hardly any better than repeatedly attempting to harm oneself to test a healing ability. Plus, he didn't want to end up getting trapped in another parallel dimension. Considering that he had literally died while in the alternate universe, and was only alive now thanks to a corrupt underground scheme, interdimensional travel wasn't something he was eager to experience ever again.

Then again, the whole reason he had gotten himself and Ando trapped in the alternate reality to begin with had been his own hangups about the future. In retrospect, Hiro would have preferred a bad future over what he had ultimately gone through. Futures could be changed. So could worlds, of course, but that took a bit more work. Either way, he thought it would be best if he at least put any further experiments on hold for a while.

Besides, spending so much time in such a messed-up world really made him realize just how good his life was. Sure, Dial-A-Hero was still basically a flop, and his overall social status could have been a lot better, but the important thing was that Hiro had people who he cared about and who cared about him. He had friends who liked him, he had his sister, and most importantly, he had Ando. Ultimately, Hiro didn't need to go too far through time and space to find happiness; he had it right when and where he was. Things could always have been better for him, but as it was, things could always be a whole lot worse.

And his life, imperfect as it was, was made better by the people who were sharing it with him.

* * *

It was the end of another long, tiring day. Things at the precinct were looking bad; there was a drug-related case that nobody was having any luck with, and the captain was starting to take his frustration out on the officers. To make things worse, Janice had kicked Matt out of the house again. No doubt she was fooling around with some other guy--maybe the water bottle salesman, or maybe somebody else altogether. Matt had really tried to make things work with her, for Mattie’s sake more than anyone’s, but it was becoming increasingly clear that it just wasn't meant to be. Now, as Matt sat alone in some second-rate hotel room watching the news, he thought back to a better time in his life, and of the family he could have had in some other future.

On the news, there was a report on a big scientific breakthrough regarding the multiverse theory. That kind of science was way over Matt's head, but the cable at the hotel only offered the one channel, so he turned the volume down and got up to splash some water on his face. He needed a refresher--he just felt so damn tired and grody. What was he even doing with his life anymore?

Just then, there was a quiet rap on the door. It had an almost apprehensive sound to it, like whoever was knocking wasn't sure if it was their place to do so. Wondering who was at the door, Matt went to answer it. He certainly wasn't expecting anybody to drop by on him, so he had no idea who it could have been. Maybe somebody was looking for their room and had just found the wrong one?

When Matt opened the door, he did a double take. He knew the woman standing out in the hall in an instant, but it was impossible for her to be there. And yet, there stood Daphne, looking just as beautiful and spirited and  _ alive  _ as he remembered her. Matt took a step back, mind reeling. He blinked rapidly, expecting her to vanish or for him to realize that it was really someone else, and that his mind was playing tricks on him. However, no such thing happened. Daphne remained where she was, blushing, her hands folded behind her back as she stared up at him with a nervous smile.

“Hi,” she said, raising her hand to give Matt a little wave. “It's, uh, been a while, hasn't it?”

“Daphne… how are you here?” Matt asked breathlessly. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he was afraid that if he did, his hand would pass right through her like a ghost or an illusion. “How are you alive?”

“Long story short, alternate universe,” she said. She took a hand out from behind her back and placed it on Matt's waist. It felt solid--real. “I think the real question is, what are you going to do about it?”

Matt's eyes filled up with joyful tears as he cupped Daphne's head in his trembling hands and tilted her chin up so that their eyes were level. What was he going to do? That was a good question, all right. What reaction could possibly be appropriate for getting back the woman he thought he had lost forever years ago? Luckily for him, Daphne seemed to know the answer to that better than he did. Wrapping her arms around Matt's shoulders, she stood up on her tiptoes and planted a brief, chaste kiss to his lips.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she interlaced her fingers behind his back.

There was a question in her voice. Matt didn't have to read her mind to know that she was just as confused by the current situation as he was. Whatever universe she was from, she wasn't his Daphne, and he wasn't her Matt. And then there was Janice--Janice, who would toss Matt aside to fool around with other men. Would she stand in the way?  _ No, _ Matt decided.  _ No, I don't think she will _ .

Closing the door to the hotel room behind them, Matt lifted Daphne up off the ground and spun her around. He then set her gently back down as she kissed him again, this time deeper and with more certainty. Her lips sent a tremor of delight down his spine. Kissing her back, he ran his fingers through her hair. She still had that adorable Gwen Stefani haircut.

“Thank you,” he murmured between kisses. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

“Hey,” Daphne said with a soft smile edging the corners of her lips, “It was either you or a lifetime of death battles. And, honestly, the choice was pretty clear.”

Matt laughed. “I'm glad you think so highly of me.”

“Yeah, well, count yourself lucky,” she teased.

They kissed again, a miasma of pent-up emotions swirling between them. Matt still felt that Daphne owed him a better explanation as to how exactly she had gotten there, and where exactly they would go from there was going to take a lot of figuring out. But for now, Matt didn't want to think about any of that, and he got the vibe that the feeling was mutual. Right now, in this moment, just having Daphne there was more than enough. It was everything he could have asked for.

* * *

Two weeks after their return, Hiro and Ando found themselves back in the Dial-A-Hero office, waiting in vain for the phone to ring. Hiro swung his legs back and forth under the table, deep in thought. There was something about the way that the sunlight filtered through the window blinds that day--horizontal slits of light that bathed the room and illuminated specks of dust hanging in the air. There was something about the low buzz of the air conditioner and the sound of their office chairs rolling back and forth against the tiled floor. And there was something about Ando--maybe not anything new, but something that Hiro had never paid attention to before. All he knew was that the sight of his friend leaning back in his office chair with a bored sigh had never been more captivating. It filled him with a soft and warm feeling, yet one with an undercurrent of buzzing excitement.

"Say, Ando," Hiro mumbled, almost afraid to break the silence. A heat rose in his cheeks when Ando turned to look at him expectantly, and he shrunk down in his seat, suddenly flustered. He internally cursed himself for not having figured himself out sooner; this newfound awareness of his true feelings was making things difficult.

"What is it?" Ando prompted when Hiro didn't immediately follow up with anything.

"I--" Hiro gulped, wondering what exactly he  _ did  _ want to say. "I've been thinking about while we were in the alternate world, after I… after I died. You were lonely without me, weren't you?"

Ando's brows furrowed; he gave Hiro an incredulous look. "Of course I was!" he said. "You're my best friend, Hiro." Then, ducking his head and speaking under his breath so that Hiro could barely hear his words: "And I love you."

Only upon hearing those words whispered did the tension that had been slowly building up inside Hiro over the past couple of weeks finally release. He had suspected, of course--well, he had hoped and wished, in any case--but there had always been a great amount of doubt clouding Hiro’s mind, holding him back from mentioning how he really felt. The confirmation that Ando felt the same way was utterly exhilarating. Breaking into a grin, he clapped Ando on the shoulder, diverting his friend's gaze back to him. For a moment, a nervous expression crossed Ando's face, like he thought he had said the wrong thing. But when his eyes met Hiro's, he seemed to relax.

"I love you, too," Hiro told him, keeping his hand on his shoulder just because he could. "I think I've loved you for a long time now. I just wish I had realized sooner."

Ando let out a breathy laugh, cheeks colouring. "Yeah, we… we almost lost our chance there, didn't we? You know," he went on, taking Hiro's hand in his and twining their fingers together, "if I hadn't been on death's door when you rescued me, I might have…"

He trailed off, pursing his lips. Hiro leaned forward, eyes widening expectantly. Ando opened his mouth only to shut it again without saying anything; then, with a slight shake of his head, he brought his free hand up to cup the side of Hiro's face. Hiro realized what was about to happen a second before it did, and he let out a muffled gasp as his oldest and dearest friend leaned in and kissed him.

It was over too quickly for him to properly kiss back. Ando hastily retreated with a blush spreading across his face, leaving Hiro stunned and buzzing with delight. Then he blinked, collecting himself, and found that the magnetic pull within his heart wasn't yet appeased.

"Don't scoot away from me now," he said sternly, grabbing Ando's wrist and pulling him back over to him with enough force to tug him halfway out of his office chair. "If you're going to kiss me, do it properly!"

"Oh…" Ando stammered. He appeared dumbfounded by Hiro's reaction, like he didn't expect his feelings to be reciprocated (which Hiro thought was ridiculous, since he'd just said he loved him back!) "O-of course, if you're sure that's--"

"It's what I want," Hiro assured him, squeezing his hand firmly and staring into the pool of emotions swirling within his wide eyes. "I really, really, really want this. I want you," he added, in case the point somehow wasn't clear. "I want to be with you for the rest of my life, to protect you and have you protect me--" He suppressed a wince as he said that part, because as much as it hurt his pride to admit, he relied on Ando to help him out and protect him perhaps even more than the other way around. "--and for you to walk beside me so that when I turn my head I always know you'll be there. And I want to kiss you."

"Well, then," Ando murmured, an affectionate smile creeping onto his face. "How can I refuse a request like that?"

This time when they kissed it was longer, deeper, and it thrilled Hiro to the core. He kissed back eagerly, wrapping his arm around Ando's back and pulling him in so close that he was practically on his lap. He was grinning like an idiot the whole time, and he could tell that Ando was too; he could feel the upward curve of his now-more-than-a-friend's lips pressed against his own.

This, Hiro thought, was the happy ending they had earned. It was unfortunate that it had taken them yet another near-death experience and one  _ actual  _ death experience to realize their feelings, but they were both alive now, and they were together, and from now on they would be  _ together  _ in a way they never had been before. Perhaps another terrible thing would happen to them tomorrow, or next week, or next month. But in the meantime they were happy, and when the next terrible thing happened they would still have each other, and they'd find a way to get through it. They always did.

So really, what more could he ask for?

-end-


End file.
